


What Happens In Vegas...

by tprillahfiction



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst, Awkward Sex, Awkward first time sex, Elvis - Freeform, Elvis Presley - Freeform, Explicit Sex, Farce, First Kiss, First Time, Forced Marriage, Hot Tub, Hot Tub Sex, Humor, Las Vegas, Las Vegas Wedding Ceremony, M/M, Married Couple, Married Sex, Mild Angst, Romance, Sex with a virgin, Shower Sex, Slash, Virgin Spock, Virgin sex, Wedding Proposal, Whatever Happens In Vegas Stays In Vegas, elvis wedding, fake wedding ceremony, first kiss after wedding, jacuzzi, jacuzzi sex, liberace, sex in a public place, virgin!Spock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-03-22 10:15:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 43,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3725104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tprillahfiction/pseuds/tprillahfiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk needs to practice his wedding officiant skills (by order of Starfleet Command) so he drafts the assistance of Spock and McCoy to be his pretend couple.  It’s meant to be only a game, not real.  The problem is Spock is taking this fake wedding thing way too seriously.  Featuring: the fake engagement, their wedding, their honeymoon, the wedding night and the eventual consummation.  Anything that can go wrong on their honeymoon, will go wrong.  </p><p>This is a FARCE.  Expect a ridiculous senario but as much in character as I could make it.  And featuring....Virgin!Spock</p><p>Originally written for: Spiced Peaches 2014</p><p>NOW COMPLETE!!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

WHAT HAPPENS IN VEGAS...

 

“Bones!” Kirk said, clasping the doctor’s shoulders in the deck 5 corridor. “Just the man I wanted to see.”

“Oh?" McCoy replied. "What’s the matter Jim? Got a hangnail?” 

“Nope.” Jim stood there, grinning from ear to ear.

“Well, what is it? What do you need?”

Jim tilted his head conspiratorially. “In my quarters. We’ll talk. Over a drink.”

McCoy couldn't explain why, but he felt a sudden pang of fear. “Alright, Jim.”

*

McCoy spat out his brandy. “You want me to do...WHAT?”

“I need for you and Spock to get married.”

“To each other?”

“Yeah.”

McCoy smacked his palm down on the captain’s desk and stood up. “That’s it Jim. I’m relieving you of command. I’m citing severe mental illness, regulation 46.7A--”

“Knock it off, Bones. I’m serious. Hear me out.”

“No. No. Absolutely not. This is crazy talk."

"Come on, Bones."

"Marry Spock? What in blazes for!? Oh no, now wait just a goddamned minute. He’s going through that goddamned pon farr business again. Oh no. Forget it. If you think I’m gonna fight that Stonn you are fucking crazy and I’m--”

“Bones, will you shut up a minute? Let me explain it to you. Bones. Calm down. Bones! Sit down and shut up. You know the Mugullah/Peterson wedding I performed a week ago?”

“Yeah, I was there.”

“Well, it appears I made an error during the ceremony.” Jim got up and paced his quarters back and forth. “Something in the wording of it. The details.”

“I dunno, Jim. I thought the ceremony went just fine and dandy.”

“I thought so too, but both Mugullah and Peterson complained. Went over my head, to the brass. Commodore Stocker.”

“They went over your head to Stocker?” McCoy’s eyes widened. “Really? Holy shit.”

“Yeah.” Jim smacked his hands together. “I thought the ceremony was beautiful, thought my words were poignant and--”

“But the happy couple didn’t agree.”

“No, they sure didn’t.”

“But, it worked, right? They’re married,” McCoy pointed out. “You didn’t fuck that up. The ceremony is legal. That’s the important thing.”

“Yeah, but they feel cheated. Felt the ceremony was crap.”

McCoy took another long sip of his drink. “Mugullah and Peterson are lucky there wasn’t a red alert in the middle of it. What the hell do they expect with a tour in deep space during a five year mission?”

“I don’t know, Bones. I just don’t know.”

“So what the hell does this have to do with me and Spock getting married?”

“Well.” Jim cleared his throat. “I need to practice officiating a wedding ceremony.”

“Practice officiating a wedding ceremony?”

“That’s what I said.”

“But Jim, how hard can that be? Why don’t you offer to redo the Mugullah/Peterson wedding? That would be better, don’t you think?”

“No, they don’t want a redo.”

“They don’t, huh?”

“No. I need to practice on somebody else.”

McCoy poured another full glass of brandy. “And ya’ll reckon you should practice on me and Spock.”

“Correct.”

“Jim. There’s just one problem with this evil plan of yours.”

“What is it?”

“We can’t get married.”

“Why not?”

“Well, first of all, Spock and I are not a couple. We’re not dating. We’re not even courting. I don’t even know if we could even call each other friends. What we have is professional courtesy more like, when we can bother to get along. We sure as hell are not sleeping together. And, most importantly, we’re not even attracted to one another!” McCoy raised up his hands. “Ergo, this is absolutely ridiculous!”

“But you and Spock both like men, right?”

McCoy lowered his hands and raised an eyebrow. “Spock prefers men?”

“Yeah.” Jim grinned and nodded. 

“Really?” McCoy said. “Ooh, I didn’t know that.”

“I thought you did.”

“No, I didn’t. Huh. Learn something new everyday.”

“And you prefer men, Bones.”

“Well, I am bisexual, Jim. But you could say, I prefer men over women.”

“Spock’s your type of guy. Man of science.”

“Yeah, but--wait a minute. He’s not my--”

“Bones.”

“Yeah?”

“Calm down. You’re shaking. Don’t get your boxers in a bunch. The ceremony won’t be legal. You don’t have to do anything, just show up. Let me do the marrying and you and Spock will stand in front of me during the ceremony and play the happy couple. You know, it’s like performing in a stage play or something. Just act. That’s it. It’s easy. You don’t have to kiss him.”

“I don’t? Well, thank the Great Bird of The Galaxy for that miracle. It would be like kissing a--I dunno--a blow up doll. 'Cept the blow up doll would show more emotions!”

“You don’t have to consummate anything.”

McCoy snickered in spite of himself. “Now that would be interesting. Me and Spock consummating the marriage.” He downed his drink and poured himself another. “Get me drunk and maybe I’ll capitulate. And I’ll most likely have to be falling over drunk during the ceremony, too.”

“No, no, no. You have to do the ceremony completely sober.”

McCoy wrinkled up his nose. “Oh, you’re kidding. I dunno, Jim. I mean, this is crazy. Don’t you dare make it an order.”

“I will if I have to.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Come on, Bones. Do a friend a favor. I need the practice.”

“Practice? My ass. Aren’t there any legitimate couples aboard the Enterprise that would be more than happy to have a real wedding performed by the illustrious Captain James T. Kirk?”

“None that I know of. It can’t be real. The ceremony has to be pretend.”

“I don’t get it. Why pretend, Jim?”

“As I said, Stocker wants me to practice. I might screw it up again.”

“Jim, you’re a highly trained Starfleet captain with years of service. Screwing up a wedding ceremony? You’re in command of a starship. That would be the least of my worries. The accusations don’t seem silly to you?”

“I have my orders, Bones.”

“This is a joke, right? Is it April fools day?”

“No, Bones. No joke.”

“But if it isn’t a joke--again Jim--aren’t there any real couples aboard the Enterprise that would be overjoyed to participate in a practice ‘fake’ wedding ceremony, performed by Captain James T. Kirk?”

“There’s none.”

“You haven’t bothered to find out. Have you.”

“Bones. You and Spock are my best friends. I trust the both of you with my life. In fact the both of you have saved mine many a time. And I’ve saved yours.”

“So?”

“So, you know, you do me this little favor--maybe we can make something fun of the situation.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Jim broke out into a huge grin. “The Enterprise is going to Earth to be refitted. So, Stocker is granting the entire ship two weeks leave. And as for myself and the happy couple....”

“Go on.”

“A vacation in Las Vegas. Two weeks. All expenses paid. The best hotel room. Gambling, fine dining, booze, you name it. And if I’m gonna go to Vegas for shore leave with anyone, I want it to be with you and Spock. My best friends.”

“Spock’s not gonna go for Vegas. Scotty might, but not Spock.”

“Fine. You wanna marry Scotty or Spock? Pick one.”

McCoy thought about that for a moment. “Alright, I pick Spock.” He shrugged. “I just want to see the look on his face when you ask him. Betcha five credits he politely tells you where to go.”

“I’ll work on him. Soon as we get his okay, then I’ll make all the arrangements for the wedding chapel.”

“What’s this WE business? You mean ‘you’! Wait a minute-- Wedding chapel? The ‘wedding’ won’t be held aboard ship?”

“Nope. Las Vegas.”

“Well, actually maybe it would be better that way. The whole damn ship won’t find out. Oh no, what the hell am I thinking? Of course they’ll find out! But Jim, you don’t have the authority to officiate a wedding on Earth.”

“Exactly, Bones. See? That’s why it won’t be legal. Nothing to worry about. And then after the ceremony is over with and the reception--”

“Reception?! Wait a minute--”

“Just a little party, Bones. Lots of booze, wedding cake.”

“Wedding cake? What?”

“Yeah, you like cake, don’t ya?”

“Well, gee I don’t--”

“Lots of booze, Bones. Then afterwards you’ll be able to relax in a fancy penthouse hotel suite, soaking in a sunken jacuzzi in the room, snack on chocolate covered strawberries, drink lots of champagne. As much room service as you want. Booze--”

“You said that.”

“--gambling, food, shows, you name it, it’s all yours for the taking, Bones. Come on, Bones. You know you want to. All you have to do is go through a little, teeny weeny wedding ceremony with Spock. Only take about a half hour of your precious time, tops, then they’ll be a little party to celebrate and then we have the rest of the leave--”

“Can’t we lie and say we did the ceremony? And still go on the Vegas shore leave?”

“Nope.”

“Dammit. You are something, you know that, Jim?” McCoy stood up, placed both hands on the desk. “Fine!” he shouted. “I can’t believe I’m actually agreeing to do this for you.”

“Thanks, Bones! You’re a real pal.”

“Yeah. Sure I am.”

“Now I have to get Spock on board.”

McCoy went over and patted Jim on the shoulder. “Good luck with that. Make sure you tell him it was all your crazy idea, alright? It better be the best goddamned shore leave ever. The best damned shor--”

“I heard you the first time, Bones. It will. I guarantee it.”

“Alright, then.” McCoy watched Jim move towards the door. “Thanks, Jim.”

As Jim exited, McCoy muttered to himself: “What the hell am I thanking him for?”

 

*

McCoy sat in his quarters, nursing another drink, muttering: “He’ll never go for it. Jim is an absolute madman and I’ll--”

The bosun’s whistle sounded. “Kirk to McCoy.”

“McCoy, here. Jim how did it--?”

“Shhh, Bones. Need to see you in my quarters, immediately.”

“On my way, Jim.” McCoy dashed out the doors, almost nailing his hip on the bulkhead.

*

“Spock wants me to do what, now?” McCoy said, gaping at the captain. "Huh?"

“Well, the only way Spock will agree to this...little wedding ceremony...is if you go over there--”

“Where, Jim?”

“To his quarters. Go over there, pay Spock a visit and then... ask him.”

McCoy scratched his head. “Ask him what?”

“To marry you,” Jim stated in all seriousness.

“Ask Spock to marry me,” McCoy repeated. He folded his arms and thought a moment. “You mean...he wants me to...propose to him?”

“Well,” Jim said with a shrug. “I guess if you put it like that.”

“Put it like what?” McCoy said, finding a little bit of panic well up in his heart and feeling as if he needed to explain the obvious to his best friend. “That is what asking someone to marry you is...it’s called proposing.”

“I’m fully aware of that, Bones.”

“Why does he want me to propose? He does realize that this is not real, this wedding business is only pretend. Right?”

“Sure he does, Bones.”

“You TOLD him that, right?”

“Of course I did.”

“He and I are not a couple, so why is he...? Why in the hell is he...?”

Jim patted McCoy on the shoulder. “Listen, Bones, it doesn’t have to be a big deal. All you have to do is go over to Spock’s quarters and ask him to marry you. I mean you’re the other affected party so---”

“Spock wants me... to ask him... to marry him,” McCoy said slowly, tilting his head, trying desperately to understand what the hell was really going on. “And then he’ll agree to this charade of a wedding.”

“Yes,” Jim said. “That is his demand.”

McCoy walked over to Jim’s desk, sat down and put his head in his arms. “I need another drink.”

Jim sat down across from him. “So will you do it?”

“Do I have a choice?”

Jim got up and fixed him that badly needed brandy. “Not really. Here.” He handed it over. “Liquid courage.”

With shaky hands, McCoy sipped that drink till it was gone. “Alright. You know what? I have some demands, too. I want the tackiest wedding chapel in Las Vegas.”

Jim waved him off. “Oh, there’s a ton of ‘em, don’t you worry about that.”

“With Elvis singing at the chapel.”

“You want Elvis, you got him, Bones. Anything for you.”

“I’ll provide you with a song list. Maybe you could dress up like Elvis, too. In fact, I insist. I want plastic flowers on the pews, pink flamingo decor, a plastic boutonniere and maybe a pink caddie to drive around in-- anything you can think of. I want to wear one of those tuxedo T-shirts. Maybe have the reception at McDonalds.”

Jim broke out in a chuckle. “Really, McDonalds? Spock’s a vegetarian.”

“Well, those burgers aren’t real meat, anyway.”

“Bones.”

“Yeah, you’re right, Jim. Better make that a fancy restaurant so he can have something to eat too--don’t wanna go too far--” McCoy halted. “Wait a minute.”

“What?”

“I don’t have anything to propose with. I need something.”

Jim held up his hand. “I’ve got that all taken care of.”

“Oh?”

“Uh huh.” Jim reached over to dig into a drawer. He finally pulled out a red velvet heart shaped box. “Look at this.”

McCoy eyed the other man, then opened it. He stared at the ring a moment, then grinned. “Goddamn, Jim. This looks like something you’d get out of one of those ancient gumball machines. Oh this is perfect. Lets see the look on the hobgoblin’s face when I propose with this.” He took it out of the box and slid it onto his own ring finger and began to laugh hysterically. “Oh my God, this is fucking perfect.”

“Don’t get it stuck on your hand.”

“Will it turn my finger green?” With that McCoy dissolved into a fit of giggles.

*

“Spock, will you marry me?” McCoy's voice cracked as he said the word ‘marry’. He held up the gaudy ring, giving a goofy smile in front of the bathroom mirror. The grin faded then darkened into a scowl. “No, no, dammit. That sounded like I’m going through puberty. Goddammit. This is crazy. Absolutely crazy. Spock’ll never go for it. These shenanigans. I must be insane for agreeing to this. I am insane. Next thing you know I'll be talking to myself. Jim has gotta be puttin’ me on and Spock is gonna raise his eyebrow in that logical disapproving fashion and I’ll never hear the end of it and--”

He stopped, took a deep breath and stared some more at his reflection. Seemed to have acquired more bags under his eyes. Nice. Well, he was a doctor not a centerfold. 

He yanked down on his black undershirt that seemed to have ridden up to his belly, then went into the head to brush his teeth again. He’d just taken a shower not five minutes ago but he’s been sweating buckets so he sniffed under his arms to make sure they didn’t stink. He wiped the beads from his brow. “Why am I so goddamned nervous? It’s Spock for crying out loud!” He went over to his desk and fixed himself yet another brandy. That’ll take the edge off, Jim was right about the liquid courage. Just make sure to eat a couple mints to get rid of the booze breath. 

Now for what to wear. Sickbay smock or standard ‘velour’ tunic? Which one? He glanced from one to the other hanging up in front of him. Which one? Goddammit. Which one?! Which shirt said, ‘marriage proposal’? The sickbay smock was more comfortable but was it too casual? Maybe he should slip on that dress uniform. No, no, no. Let’s not go that far. 

He began to pace his quarters. He clapped his hands together. Fuck. Which shirt should he wear? Velour or smock? Should he ask Jim? Hell no.

“Fine, you know what,” he said to himself. “I’ll flip for it. Get my indian nickel out. That’ll be the final decision.” Heads was the velour tunic, tails would be the sickbay smock. He dug around for the nickel in his drawer, found it, then tossed it up into the air. He caught it and slammed it down on his forearm. 

He removed his hand. It was heads. “Alright. It’s settled. Velour tunic it is.”

He pulled the tunic off the hanger, donned it, straightened out any wrinkles with the palm of his hand. He looked in the mirror once again, squinting at himself. “Goddammit my hair is sticking up. Spock’s not gonna say ‘yes’ with my hair sticking up. He does have standards, for crying out loud.” He rolled his eyes, got out a tube of hair jell and slicked down the offending cowlick. Now it looked like he had too much product in his hair. He couldn’t win. 

After a few more moments, he was ready. He took another long sip of the brandy, then finally polished off the glass. He stared for a moment. He should take a anti-ol hypo so he’s not inebriated. They kept this stuff around in case of red alert. Wasn’t pleasant but it was necessary. He reached over, picked up the hypo and shot himself with it. After a moment he was completely cold stinking sober. Wonderful. 

He flipped on the viewer. “McCoy to Spock.”

“ _Spock here_.”

He cleared his throat. “Mr. Spock, will you be in quarters this evening?” 

That green blooded bastard knew goddamned well why he was asking but the hobgoblin didn’t let on. “ _Affirmative, Doctor_.”

“Good. I’m fixing to pay you a visit,” he said, a little more grandly than he intended. “How’s that sound?”

“ _When shall I expect you_?” Spock replied.

“As soon as I can carry my little legs down there.”

“ _Acknowledged, Spock out_.”

McCoy flipped off the viewer and made a face. “As soon as I can carry my little legs down there? Goddammit, Bones, you can be the dumbest lunkhead aboard ship sometimes.”

Well, it was now or never. He walked to the doors then halted, glanced down at the gaudy ring on his right hand. “Know what? I’m wearing my goddamned smock.” 

___________________  
on to chapter 2


	2. Chapter 2

McCoy arrived at Spock’s door and before signaling, he glanced down and noticed twin sweat rings under his arms. 

Goddammit. Shoulda wore the velour tunic. He bounced on his heels and activated the door chime.

“ _Come_ ,” came the reply from inside.

His heart pounding, McCoy moved through the doors to find Spock sitting at his desk. “Good Evening, Doctor,” the Vulcan said.

“Hello, Spock.” McCoy stood, awkwardly, politely until the Vulcan invited him to sit.

“Would you like a drink?” Spock offered.

McCoy hesitated as he remembered the hypo he just took to sober his ass up. “No, thank you.”

“Are you certain you would not like some tea?”

McCoy cleared his throat. “Fine, I'll have tea. If you insist.”

Spock brought him the tea and they sat sipping at their mugs for a few moments, not saying a word. McCoy shifted in his chair, idly tapping the lip of the mug. 

Spock’s attention was drawn to McCoy’s fingers. “That is an interesting ring you are wearing. I have not recognized it before. Quite elaborate.”

McCoy hid his hand behind his back. He blushed and said: “It’s new.”

“Ah.”

McCoy adjusted the collar of his T-shirt under the smock. "A little hot in here isn't it?"

"I turned the temperature down."

"Oh. Thanks."

A few more long minutes of heavy silence between them where McCoy was looking every place else except at Spock. He came to the end of his tea so he couldn’t even occupy himself with consuming that anymore. He cleared his throat again. “S’pose you know why I’m here.”

Spock didn’t reply to that, merely sat there, oddly engrossed in his own beverage. “Would you care for another drink?”

“No, it’ll make me--” McCoy stopped but he meant to say, it would make him have to pee and he already had to go desperately, so why make things worse and-- “I’m fine, thank you.”

Spock nodded and continued to sit there.

McCoy rubbed his hands. “Jesus Christ. Usually we’re engaged in a vicious argument right about now after spending this long of a time alone together.”

“We rarely argue.”

“What are you talking about? We’re always arguing.”

“Only when you are incorrect about an important issue and I must bring the matter to your attention. You are quite emotional about a great deal many subjects of which I must balance with logic.”

“When was I incorrect about an ‘issue’?!” McCoy demanded, placing heavy sarcastic emphasis on that last word. “And logical? Ha! My ass. I can’t believe you were actually willing to involve yourself with this little game of Jim’s. What the hell’s the matter with you? Jim asks you to take part in this stupid, silly, fake wedding ceremony and you agree with it. I mean--”

Spock reacted to that, by turning his face away. 

Odd. That reaction wasn’t what he was expecting. McCoy cleared his throat again. “Care if use your toilet?”

Spock waved him in that direction. “By all means.”

“Why, thank you.” He got up, locked himself inside the bathroom. Went pee. Finished up, washed his hands and glanced in the mirror. “Nice job, you fucking bastard.” What a surprise, Leonard McCoy managed to fuck up a marriage proposal. Well, wouldn’t be the first time. In fact he managed to fuck up an entire marriage, too. 

Well, without a doubt, when he walked out of this here bathroom, the Vulcan would simply ignore him, would be as cold as ice, probably immersed in some reports and McCoy’d just scoot on past this disaster and leave quietly. Get the hell outta Dodge. Then he’d head over to Scotty’s cabin to ask him instead. Probably should have told Jim to ask the chief engineer in the first place. 

He paused a moment to collect himself before he popped open the door. 

His empty mug was still sitting where he’d left it. Spock was now standing, looking out of his viewing port, at the stars. Instead of leaving, McCoy came up to stand next to him. 

Spock turned to look at him and there was a moment however fleeting of definite hurt and sadness in those dark orbs. 

McCoy didn’t understand. Did he somehow upset the first officer? He didn’t know but seeing that did something to him, made him melt a little inside. He stood, face to face with the Vulcan, meeting his gaze. “Hey uh,” he said. “Sorry about that.”

“No need to apologize, Doctor.”

He was about to argue back that yes he was out of line he really should apologize and if Spock wanted to play along with this fake wedding for the captain’s benefit then he had no right to judge him. He really should propose like he promised he’d do and get this ball rolling and stop dragging things out. Except when he opened his mouth, he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t say the words. Something about Spock’s quarters. 

Instead, McCoy said: “Why don’t we go someplace else to talk, other than this oven?”

Spock’s eyes suddenly changed to curiosity, there was almost a glint of humor in them. Goodness, he was starting to read the Vulcan like a book. Maybe he could almost convince himself that Spock felt every emotion he did. 

“Where should we go?” Spock asked.

McCoy was about to shrug and say ‘I dunno’, when he blurted out: “Observation lounge. We’ll look at the stars.”

“We can view the stars from my quarters.”

McCoy huffed and folded his arms. “I know that, Commander Obvious, but from the observation deck, we can REALLY see them. Fine. Point taken. You don’t wanna go. Alright, then.” Goddammit Bones, just ask him and leave. What the hell is the matter with--

“I did not say that I did not wish to go.”

“Well then, that’s settled, let's go.”

*

He was aware that this was turning into some kind of a date when they strode through the doors of the observation lounge. Place was deserted. Excellent. He locked the doors behind him with the CMO’s code. Spock raised an eyebrow at that.

“So we don’t get caught ‘en fragrante delicto’,” McCoy explained. “You want Janice Rand up here spying on us? Us two up here alone together. Shit. The scuttlebutt will travel through the ship so fast your ears will spin. Warp 11.”

“My ears do not spin at warp 11,” Spock said solemnly and McCoy couldn’t help but giggle as the Vulcan actually reached up and touched his own ear. “Are you implying, Dr. McCoy, that two fellow officers cannot be seen in the observation lounge together, unless they are in a relationship?”

“I’m outright saying that. You better believe they’d think something was up. Specially since tonight’s a Saturday night.”

“What if both officers simply wish to look at the stars in each other’s company?”

“I don’t know, Spock. This is where couples go to...you know. Fool around. On saturday night. Which is why I’m surprised nobody is already up here. not even Mr. Chekov. Maybe it’s early.”

“I see.”

“I’ve never brought anybody else up here, if that’s what you were wondering.”

Spock shrugged a little and McCoy was flabbergasted to realize that that’s EXACTLY what Spock was wondering. 

And he didn’t know why he had the crazy idea to come up here with Spock anyway. But, the observation deck seemed more romantic, abiet a less private location to propose. For a fake wedding ceremony. 

Goddamn, get this over with. Now.

“Spock give me your hand,” McCoy said in a quiet voice. Too quiet. 

Spock raised an eyebrow, but did so. Strangely enough, this wasn’t the first time they’d held hands. Well, they’d clasped hands, more like. When Spock had to drag him out of a hole, planet side. Or when he had to check for Spock’s radial pulse. You know, important things like that.

“You’re not expecting me to get down on one knee are you?” McCoy asked him.

“Jim had informed me that that was the correct procedure, yes.”

“So you DO want me to get down on one goddamned knee, fine, coming right up.” He got down on one knee. “I can’t pronounce your full name.”

“Spock is sufficient.”

“Fine. Alright.” He cleared his throat. “Here goes. Spock will you do me the honor of marrying me?” That didn’t come out as eloquent as he’d hoped, but he’d avoided saying the honor of being my spouse since this wasn’t real but hopefully this proposal would do the job. 

And what was taking Spock so long to reply? 

“Hmmm,” Spock said. 

“Oh for Chrissake!” McCoy stood up, still holding onto the Vulcan’s hand who hadn’t released it. “What do you mean, ‘hmmmm’?”

“I must take time to give your proposal a response.”

“What? You can’t say ‘yes’ right away?”

“Negative.”

“Why the hell not?”

“It is not our way.”

“The Vulcan way or you and Jim’s crazy ass way of rattling your poor Chief Medical Officer?”

“The Vulcan way.”

“You’re full of shit.”

“I am not.”

“Fine. When can I expect a reply, Sir?”

“I will visit you with my response.”

McCoy rubbed his face with one hand, the hand that Spock wasn’t still holding. “Can I have my hand back, please?”

Spock released it. McCoy covered his face with both hands. 

“Should we vacate the observation lounge?” Spock asked.

“You go on ahead, Spock. I need a few minutes alone.”

Spock nodded and exited. 

Blissfully alone now, McCoy sank down on one of the seats. Why didn't Spock give him an answer? Was it the way he'd asked? Was he too much his growly, sarcastic, jerk of a self? 

"I really need to work on my approach," he said to himself, with a sigh. 

*

He was sitting at his desk, in his quarters, nursing a brandy when his door chimed. “Come,” he growled out.

Jim practically dove through them. “Bones! How’d it go?”

McCoy got up and pointed at the captain. “Don’t. Don’t you talk to me.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Humiliate me like that. What’s the matter with you, Jim?”

“Humiliate you?” Jim glanced at the gaudy ring on McCoy’s hand. “You’re still wearing it. Didn’t you ask him?”

McCoy plonked back down in his chair. “I sure as hell did.”

“Why didn’t you give him the ring?”

He didn’t want to explain to Jim that he hadn’t bothered offering up this ridiculous piece of tat. “Because he said ‘no’.”

Jim bit his lip. “He said ‘no’? Wow. And you even picked a romantic place, the observation lounge to propose. I’d have just done it in his quarters.”

“Spock told you I proposed in the observation lounge?”

“Nope. Heard you two were up there from Yeoman Rand. She wondered if something was going on between you both.”

McCoy smacked his hand down on the desk. “Goddammit.”

Jim scratched his cheek. “That’s strange. Spock had specifically requested that he wanted you to formally propose.”

“I did. I did what he wanted, Jim. And he said, ‘he’d have to give me a response, later on’.”

“So he didn’t say ‘no’.”

“Well, not exactly. But what else does ‘I have to think about it‘ mean?”

“I dunno, Bones. I’ve never proposed to anyone. Maybe it means he needs to think about it?”

“What the hell does he need to think about? Hey, Jim?”

“Yes?”

“Why did Spock want a formal proposal?”

“It’s just his way.”

McCoy muttered something unintelligible and took another long sip of his drink. “I did it. I did what he wanted. So why is he making such a huge deal about all of this?”

“You should have offered him the ring. That would have sealed the deal.”

“Get the hell outta here, Captain, allow me to wallow in my misery. Maybe Scotty and Spock would care to get fake married instead. Leave me the hell out of it.”

“Don’t you want to go to Las Vegas?”

“Not anymore.”

The door chime sounded: ' _Ping_ '. “Oooh, that’s Spock!” Jim said. “That’s him, Bones!”

“Nah,” McCoy said. “Probably M’Benga or one of the nurses, maybe.”

“They visit your quarters?”

“Well, sometimes-- you know if it’s important....not like that, Jim. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Answer the fucking chime, Bones.”

“Dammit, Jim, don’t get your panties in a twist. Come!” McCoy bellowed out.

The doors slid open to admit Spock. “Jim,” he greeted politely.

“Hi, Spock!” Jim replied, giving a small clasp on the Vulcan’s back. “I was just leaving so you two can uh...you know. Talk privately.”

“Thank you, Jim,” Spock said. “I appreciate that.”

“I know you do,” Jim replied with a smile. “I’ll just be...in my quarters....on deck five...if you both need me. Just call.”

“Bye Jim.” McCoy waved at him to get the hell on out. 

As soon as the doors slid shut in Jim’s wake, McCoy stood up. “Care for a brandy?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, I would like a brandy.”

McCoy arched an eyebrow. Spock drinking booze, real booze, didn’t happen very often. “Coming right up, Mr. Spock." McCoy handed over a glass, clinking his own with Spock’s.

“It is customary after a marriage proposal to present the betrothed with a gift,” Spock began without preamble.

McCoy glanced down at the ring on his own hand. “Yeah, uh.” Shoulda given Spock the ring, like Jim said, as awful as it is, he supposed the Vulcan was expecting it. “I uh--”

“Therefore, I present to you, this.” Spock held the object up for McCoy to see.

“A coin?” McCoy asked.

“Affirmative.” Spock flipped it around. “However it is not simply any coin. It is 5,000 years old. It has been in my family for centuries.”

“It’s...beautiful!”

Spock held it out. “It is for you. From me.”

McCoy looked from the coin to Spock’s eyes and down to the coin again, he was aware that he was gaping. “Spock, I--I can’t accept this from you.”

“Why not?”

“Because...I...you and I are not...we’re not really.... Wait a minute, Spock, are you saying: ‘yes, I will marry you?’”

“I accept your proposal. The answer is yes.”

He couldn’t help but smile at that but then he sobered. “I can’t take this coin from you--I mean...we’re only having a fake wedding ceremony. Not legally binding.”

“I am fully aware.”

“So you should save this for when you marry for real. For your real fiance. Someday.”

There was more hurt in those dark orbs as Spock replied: “I would very much like for you to have this. Please, take it.”

He searched Spock’s eyes again. Something in them made him capitulate. “Alright.” Spock placed it into his hand. “Thank you. I’m honored.” He closed his fingers around it and hefted it. “It’s heavy.”

“It is very valuable.”

“I figured. I’ll be sure to take care of it.”

“I know,” Spock said. 

McCoy broke away from his gaze, coughed a little in his other hand. He didn’t have anything valuable to give Spock. Damn. Couldn’t give the Vulcan this gaudy, nasty ring. He racked his brain, glanced around his quarters, then suddenly noticed his left hand. His pinky ring. That was valuable. One of the most precious items he owned. He slid it off his finger, grabbed Spock’s and slid it on Spock’s pinky. “Here. I want you to have this,” he said.

“Your ring?” Spock said.

“Yes.” McCoy was about to tell the Vulcan that the ring meant alot to him, was his late mother’s, he’d never before taken it off. But he had a feeling Spock already knew that. It looked good on Spock’s hand.

“Thank you, I shall treasure it,” Spock said.

“I know you will,” McCoy replied. “I uh...” he coughed in his hand again. “Guess we’re fake engaged now.”

“Apparently so,” Spock agreed. 

“The things we do to get a trip to Vegas,” McCoy mused.

“Hmmm.”

“Ever been to Las Vegas?”

“Negative.”

“Well it’s like Wrigley’s Pleasure Planet, only smaller. Like a condensed area, not a whole planet--just a city on Earth. City of sin. Basically.”

“I have never been to Wrigley’s Pleasure Planet.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right. So you have no common frame of reference. Are you sure you wanna go to Las Vegas?”

“I am not adverse to the idea.”

“Alright. By the way, beware. Yeoman Rand spotted us up on the Observation deck. I don’t know how, but now the whole ship--I’m sure of it-- has us married off already and expecting a baby.”

“Understood.”

They sat in silence for a moment, until McCoy said: “Hey uh, how about tomorrow night, when we’re both off duty, maybe you could join me for dinner in my quarters?”

“Hmmm.”

“What do you mean, ‘hmmm’? You don’t want to spend time with your fake fiance?”

“I do, but I must know when the ceremony will be held.”

“I don’t know. Whenever Jim gets everything worked out. He has to notify Clark County that he’s officiating--rather than one of those wedding chapel ministers.”

“Wedding chapel ministers?” Spock raised an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, they uh...often dress like Elvis.”

“Elvis...?” Spock seemed to be wracking his brain which finally supplied him with an answer. “Elvis Presley? What does he have to do with--? Is this customary for an Earth ceremony?”

“Well in Las Vegas it is. See, Elvis IS Las Vegas. He was an entertainer there, got married there. So there’s lot of Elvis impersonators in town. Elvis often sings at the wedding ceremony and sometimes the officiant is Elvis and uh....I mean some of the wedding chapels are actually really nice but some of ‘em are goddawful tacky and....you can have a Liberace impersonator play at your reception, too. We should look into that. That’s a new fad everybody’s been doing.”

“Liberace?” Spock looked at him blankly.

“Y’know. Played piano. Talented guy. Lived about 250 years ago. Wore these elaborate costumes, hands covered in tacky looking, gaudy rings.”

Spock immediately glanced down at McCoy’s gaudy ring. “Ah.”

McCoy pointed to it. “Yeah, kinda like this one. He wore them on every finger. Only his were real diamond and gold and platinum and ruby and sapphire and--anyway. People used to make fun of him, you know, back when being gay was hidden away and not accepted and the elaborate way he dressed. He used to say he was crying all the way to the bank. He’d have this chauffeur drive him onstage--which was really his live-in boyfriend and uh....y’know Liberace! Candelabra on his piano? You don’t know of Liberace?”

“I do not.”

“Computer, play some Liberace!”

“ _Unable to comply_.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, computer. Dammit. Alright. I’ll have to dig up some Liberace someplace, Spock. So you can hear him. Somebody’s gotta have a file somewhere.”

“And...one must have a Liberace impersonator play one’s reception.” Spock seemed positively aghast. “This is an Earth custom? And the officiant must dress up as Elvis Presley.”

“I didn’t say it was an Earth custom. It is a Vegas custom.”

“I see.” Spock didn’t seem very amused at this, in fact he seemed to pale. 

“Don’t worry, Spock, it’s not as bad as you’re picturing. Actually it probably IS as bad as your picturing. It’s not required. People do it for fun. You know: tacky wedding chapel, five minute ceremony, you get a coffee mug with yours and my picture on it that says just married.” He clapped his hands together. “I’m kinda looking forward to this, actually!”

Spock seemed to freeze and McCoy added: “You can’t back out now, Spock! It’s not my fault that you didn’t know what you were getting into!”

“Jim made no mention of Elvis Presley or Liberace or a coffee mug with my picture on it.”

“‘Just married’!” McCoy added.

“‘Just married’.”

“Yeah well, leave it to Jim to leave out all this important detail, to gain your compliance.”

“Agreed." 

A thought sprung up in McCoy’s brain and he began giggling again. 

“What is it, Doctor?”

“I’m your fake fiance, Spock. Please call me Leonard...in private.”

“What is it, Leonard?”

“It just occurred to me that you know who Elvis is, but not Liberace.”

Spock shrugged.

“Y’know I told Jim it was kinda ironic that we were doing this in Vegas. They were one of the last states to make it legal in the old USA."

“Fascinating.”

“Yeah. Besides Utah, which was an extremely ultra conservative state.”

“Same sex marriage has always been legal on Vulcan. It has never been an issue.”

“That’s because you guys are logical.”

“Ah,” Spock replied, then stood. “Forgive me, Leonard, the hour is late and I must return to my quarters.”

“Yeah, good idea. You go get some sleep. You’re getting some bags around the eyes. Not looking your usual handsome self,” he dared say.

“Bags?” Spock wondered.

“Like I have. See?” McCoy motioned. “I never get enough sleep. Been tired since medical school.”

Spock smirked at that. “Goodnight, Leonard.”

“Goodnight, Spock,” McCoy replied. “Wait a minute--Spock?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for the gift.”

“Likewise, Leonard,” Spock replied, holding up his hand with the pinky ring.

Spock turned and walked through the doors and McCoy tried not to think that he actually liked it when the Vulcan used his christian name instead of his title, gave him a little thrill. “Don’t you go getting all excited,” he whispered to himself. “This is Spock we’re dealing with.”

___________________  
On to chapter 3


	3. Chapter 3

Jim practically tackled McCoy in the deserted officer’s mess. “You devil you!”

“Hey, Jim, stop grabbin’ my ass.”

“You gave him your pinky ring. You sly dog.”

“Well," McCoy said, with a smirk. "Spock gave me a Surakian Vulcan coin, so I thought I’d do something nice in return. It’s the least I can do for the poor guy--I mean Jim, you never told him about Las Vegas? You know all the craziness that will happen!”

Jim shrugged. “Ahhh, he’ll be fine. Vegas is tame compared to Wrigleys.”

“The hell it is, the place has changed alot in the last 20 years. Gotten wilder. Never told him about Liberace? Jim?”

Jim wrinkled up his nose. “Liberace? Spock’ll be fine, Bones.” Jim patted him on the shoulder. “Come to my quarters after shift, I’ll show you some options regarding the ceremony.”

“Gee, I dunno, Jim. I invited Spock over for dinner tonight. By the way, when ARE we gonna do this?”

“Well, as you know it’ll take about two standard weeks to reach earth. So I have the date planned on Stardate 2270.67. We’ll do the ceremony as soon as possible and then have the rest of the two weeks leave to party.”

“Alright. Good. Just wondering. Actually it was Spock that was curious.”

“So...you invited Spock over for dinner?” Jim nudged him with his elbow.

“Yeah, can’t a guy have dinner with his fake fiance?” With that the doors swooshed open to reveal the first officer. “Well, Speak of the devil,” McCoy muttered.

“Good Morning, Dr McCoy. Good morning, Captain.” Spock put his card into the slot. It opened to give him his plomeek soup. 

“Wait a second, Mr. Spock,” Jim said. “S’posed to greet your captain first, then the chief medical officer.”

“Since the doctor is my fiance,” Spock replied, “I must beg to differ with you, Captain.”

“Fake fiance, Spock. He’s right, Jim. I get special treatment now.”

Jim scowled. “Oh. That’s not fair.”

“He’s not marrying you, Jim.”

Jim slurped his coffee. “Whatever you say, you two.”

*

“This was a delicious dinner, Leonard.”

“Thank you, Spock. Kinda nice when I can use the galley instead of these reconstituted meals. Only on special occasions. You didn’t know I could make plomeek soup, did ya? Would you like another glass of brandy?”

“Yes, I would, Leonard. Thank you.”

McCoy refilled his glass. “I’ve never known Vulcans to consume alcohol.”

“We do on occasion.”

“Do you guys drink champagne?”

“I have never tried it.”

“Probably shouldn’t have it at our reception,” McCoy said. “I don’t think I can handle a drunk Vulcan. Oh wait a moment, Jim told me when the wedding ceremony was going to be held. He’s got a wedding date set for us.”

“Yes, Jim informed me as soon as we orbit earth, approximately two standard weeks from now.”

“So we have a two week engagement. Kinda fun, don’t you think, Spock?” McCoy grinned in spite of himself.

“A wedding on Vulcan is a solemn occasion,” Spock said.

“Yeah, I witnessed your Vulcan wedding ceremony, remember? Vegas won’t be anything like that. Thank God.”

Spock nodded.

*

“Goodness gracious, Bones,” Jim said. “You two were spotted up there in that observation lounge again. No wonder the tongues have been waggling.”

“So what, let them waggle. I don’t care.”

“Yeah, but they saw you two making out up there--are you sure you want this to be a fake wedding, Bones? I could make this a real one, if you really insisted, I’d bring it to Stocker’s attention.”

“We were not making out up there, because we were just sitting there. Talking. He and I have never made out. Or fooled around. Or whatever the kids are sayin' these days. We've never even kissed. This is Spock we’re talking about. Vulcans don’t fool around on observation decks! We’re not a couple! We’re just friends, enjoying our fake engagement, for crying out loud.”

Jim held up his hands. “Okay, okay! No need to get testy, Bones.”

“Making out. Yeah right. Even if I wanted to with Spock...Like he’s gonna go for somebody like me.”

“He might. You never know.”

“No way. I’m not his type.”

“What’s his type?”

“I dunno, Jim but it ain’t me.”

“Alright, fine.” Jim jumped up from his desk. “Cheer up, Bones! I have the wedding chapel all reserved for you! And believe me it is so satisfyingly tacky you will be in hog heaven. It’s called the Chapel of the Bells. Right on the strip. Got a sleazy motel right next to it. Neon sign that blinks "XXX" and "Strippers". Got pink flamingos inside the chapel, plastic flowers, you name it, it’s got it.”

“Hmmm,” McCoy said, grumbling. 

“What do you mean, ‘hmmm’? Oh, you’re not still mad over the scuttlebutt, are ya? It’s harmless.”

“We were not fooling around up there, Jim. He and I have some decorum and respect. Jeeze. Spock would be appalled if he knew what they were saying.”

“I think he knows.”

“Ah hell, you did’t tell him, did you?”

“Nurse Chapel did.”

McCoy harumphed at that. 

Jim rubbed his shoulder. “Ah, Bones. Listen, I have a surprise for you.”

“What?”

“I got myself an Elvis costume. So I can officiate as Elvis!”

McCoy grinned in spite of himself. “Can you do ‘Elvis’?”

Jim cleared throat. “Thank you, thank you very much.”

“Hey! That’s actually pretty damned good, Jim! You can’t sing though.”

“Yeah, that’ll be the other Elvis. The singer. He’ll come out and do a few songs, sing your entrance, stuff like that. So you’ll have two Elvises, at the wedding.”

“Elvi,” McCoy corrected.

*

The Enterprise glided towards its destination, Earth.

McCoy couldn’t tell you how many ‘congratulations’ he’d received throughout his shift from various crew. He didn’t have the heart to explain to every one of them, it wasn’t to be a real ceremony. So he just let them think it was. They when they came back from Vegas he could lie and say they’d gotten it annulled or something. Cross that bridge when they came to it.

Meanwhile, Spock sat at the table in McCoy’s quarters and had his mouth chomped on a Vulcan delicacy. Aleieu’te it was called. McCoy could barely pronounce it, but he looked up the recipe and fixed it for the Vulcan. “You like it, Spock?” he asked.

“It is delectable. You are an excellent cook.”

“One of my many talents."

"Really?" Spock looked into his eyes.

McCoy blushed and glanced down, clearing his throat. "I have a surprise for you. Computer, play Liberace tape one.” 

“ _Working_.”

The sounds of piano music came on. 

Spock listened to it, nodded in approval. 

McCoy toyed with his spoon. “Spock what do you plan on wearing to this little ceremony of ours?”

“My dress uniform, of course.”

McCoy smiled and glanced at his ring on Spock’s pinky. “Of course.”

*

“Bones! Just the man I wanted to see!” Jim said as McCoy strode through the cabin door. 

“Yeah, Jim I uh--”

“Still wearing that gaudy ring, huh? You know if you’re not giving it to Spock you might as well give it back to me.”

“Fine. You want it back? You can have it back.” McCoy tugged on the ring but it wouldn’t budge. “It’s stuck. I can’t get it off!”

“It’s stuck?” Jim said. “Soap! Soap will help remove it!”

They dove into the captain’s bathroom, got the shower gel and put it on McCoy’s finger. It still wouldn’t budge. “Dammit!” Jim said.

McCoy simply chuckled. “I guess I have to keep it. Or I’ll have to cut it off in sickbay.”

“No! Don’t do that!” Jim said.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s real gold.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah.”

“Is this a real ruby?”

Jim scowled. “Yes. And real diamonds around it. You probably gained some weight with all those fancy dinners you’ve been having with Spock.”

“What fancy dinners?”

“The ones you’ve been cooking for him. Yeah, Yeoman Rand told me Spock was in your quarters again. That’s every night this week!”

“So?”

“So pretty soon he’ll be spending the night.”

“He ain’t gonna be spending the night. This is Spock we’re talking about. Nothing going on between me and my fake fiance, Jim. Alright?”

“Not even 'fake sex'?"

McCoy bristled at that. "Huh? What?! 'Fake sex'? Seriously? Just listen to your...your...illogic, Jim."

Jim chuckled at that. "Well anyway, Bones. Look what I’ve got for you.” Jim pulled out a box, opened the lid, unwrapped the tissue paper and held the garment up for McCoy. “Your tuxedo tee-shirt. I believe I bought the correct size. Try it on.”

McCoy took it from him and donned it. 

Jim laughed hysterically at the sight. “You look great, Bones! With my Elvis costume and your Tuxedo T-shirt--hey we should get Spock to wear a Tux Tee shirt, too.”

McCoy shook his head. “I don’t think so, Jim.”

“No?”

“No. In fact, I changed my mind about my wedding attire.”

“You want to dress up like Elvis, too? Oh man, that could be alot of fun. Spock could dress like Elvis and we could have an Elvis themed wedding--’The Three Elvi’ and you two could two could say your vows like Elvis--‘hey baby, do you take this Vulcan to be your hubby?’ ‘ah huh huh!’ ‘thank you, thank you very much!’”

“It’s not funny, Jim. No, in fact, I’ve decided I’m wearing my dress uniform.”

“To what?”

“To the ceremony and reception.”

“Oh, how boring, Bones. I thought you hate wearing that thing. Always complaining about your neck feeling like it’s in a sling.”

“I hate it, alright. But I think it’s more appropriate.”

“Is Spock wearing his?”

“Maybe. But that’s not the reason why I’m wearing mine.”

“I bet it is.”

“It is not.”

"Is too, you sly dog, you."

"Dammit!"

*

He was listening to some music (alright he admitted it was 'Liberace’s Greatest Hits') in Spock’s quarters, when his eyes began to get heavy. “Mmmm,” he groaned. “I’m sleepy. I should go back home, but we haven’t reached the end of the album.”

“You can lay on my bunk if you’d like.” He cast a sharp glance over at the Vulcan who added: “I will remain on the couch.”

“Are you sure? Beats having to walk back to deck seven.”

Spock nodded at him and he lay down on Spock’s bunk. Promptly falling asleep.

The next morning at 0500 he tried to sneak out of Spock’s quarters, but of course Jim spotted him. “Morning, Bones!”

“Morning, Jim.” They got into the turbolift together. “That wasn't what it looked like, Jim.”

“Sure it wasn't, Bones.”

McCoy glared at the captain.

"I don't know what you're so mad about, Doc, I didn't see a damned thing, like you said."

"Keep it up, Jim. Just keep it up."

McCoy bounced his heels.

*

There was a week to go before they reached Earth and the wedding. Various members of the crew made noise about wanting to witness it and it appeared that Jim had caved in. 

“Bones, Scotty wants to come too--I mean it’s Las Vegas after all-- and I could hardly say no!”

“Well, that’s alright, Jim. He can stand up for me,” McCoy said.

“And I thought of inviting Uhura as his date.”

“Alright, Jim, that’s good. She can stand up for Spock.”

“And then I figured I couldn’t invite Uhura without inviting the rest of the bridge crew. So Sulu and Chekov will be there.”

“That’s fine.”

“And then I figured I couldn’t invite the crew I work with most of the time, if I didn’t invite the crew YOU worked with most of the time. So I invited M’Benga, Chapel, and Sanchez.”

"Alright, Jim."

“And I figured I couldn’t invite all these people without inviting my own personal yeoman, so Rand is coming along too.”

“Wait a minute, Jim,” McCoy said. “Is Stocker gonna foot the bill for all these extra people?”

“Well, not exactly. I have to uh...chip in for the others. So, I’m paying for them to attend the ceremony and reception but they’re on their own for accommodations. I mean they have two weeks shoreleave anyway, right?”

“I dunno! You’re the captain!”

“Right! So, y’know--we’ll still be able to fit those extra folks in the wedding chapel and believe me, they’re looking forward to the Elvis ceremony at Chapel of the Bells! That’s gonna be hysterical! And since you won’t wear your Tuxedo T-shirt, I’m gonna let Chekov have it.”

“Time is it, Jim? Can’t see the chrono from here.”

“1900.”

“Oops, gotta go, gonna be late.”

“For your date with Spock?”

“It’s not a date, Jim. We’re just...hanging out together. Me and my fake fiance.”

“Uh huh.”

*

It was on their ‘date’ that Spock sprang something on him. “Leonard, as you know it is a week before the ceremony.”

“Yes. It sure is.”

“I must inform you that It is customary for a Vulcan to go into a week’s seclusion from their betrothed at this time.”

McCoy scrunched up his face. “You mean, you don’t want to see me?”

“I cannot. Not until the ceremony is held.”

“But...but...” he sputtered. “Well that’s a little tricky, being as we’re both senior officers of a starship. We have a staff meeting tomorrow, we both have to show up to that, how are we--”

“I shall send in a proxy, who will relay to me every detail of the meeting.”

“I was hoping I could send M’Benga instead,” McCoy told him. Staff meetings got pretty damned boring and they were always first thing in the morning and he needed several cups of coffee to get through them. 

“As first officer I have the right.”

“Oh, pulling rank on your fake fiance?”

Spock reached over and touched him on the hand. “I must go now. I shall retire to my quarters in meditation and contemplation. For one week. We must do our best to avoid each other’s presence.”

“All this, over a fake wedding?”

“Affirmative.”

Spock strode out the doors and McCoy sat at his desk, brooding. “Uhhhh, how do you like that.”

__________________  
on to chapter 4


	4. Chapter 4

McCoy and Spock had avoided each other all week. 

Spock was doing a pretty damned good job of it too, because McCoy didn’t see Spock at all. McCoy didn’t want to admit to himself how much he missed that damned hobgoblin. He did his part by keeping himself from heading up to the bridge as was customary for him. Instead he stuck to his usual sickbay and office. The first officer avoided the officer’s mess and the rec room and they never happened past each other in the lift or corridors or the labs. 

McCoy supposed if somebody really wanted to avoid another on the Enterprise, it was possible. 

He was glumly nursing his third brandy when his door chimed. “Come.”

Jim strode through the doors. “Why so sad? Your wedding is in three days. I can’t wait to orbit Earth. I think our ETA is going to be a little early.” He clapped his hands together. “Oh, Bones, I need that song list to give to the musical Elvis. And here. I’m to give this to you.” He handed over a package. “This is from your betrothed.”

“My fake betrothed?” McCoy muttered. 

“What’s the matter, Bones?”

“Nuthin’.”

“Open it.”

McCoy tore off the elaborate wrap and gasped. According to Spock’s note, it was a real book of traditional Vulcan wedding vows. 

“That’s gorgeous, Bones.” Jim said, whistling. 

McCoy glared at the captain. Somehow it seemed sacrilege to whistle in the book’s presence. He ran his finger down the page, down the gold leaf, the embossed Vulcan letters. "Wow."

“Too bad you can’t understand the writing,” Jim told him.

“Yeah,” McCoy said. “Too bad.” He finally closed the book. “Tell him, I’m honored. And to stop spoiling me.”

“I almost think he likes you.”

“We’re just...fake engaged, that’s all, Jim.”

“You don’t sound too happy about it.”

“I’ll just be glad when this is all over with and things are back to normal.”

“Oh. Alright. Well, I better go. See you later, Bones.”

“Jim?”

“Yeah?”'

“Sit down, have a drink. I want to talk to you.”

“What is it?”

McCoy sat for a moment, hesitated. “I don’t want to get fake married at 'Chapel of the Bells'. I don’t want an Elvis wedding.”

“You backing out? Bones! No!”

“No, I’m not backing out. I want a nicer wedding.”

“Nicer?”

“Yeah, as in not tacky.”

“No Elvis?”

“No.”

“No pink flamingos?”

“No.”

“What about the pink Caddie? I forgot to tell you I have one reserved just for you and Spock.”

“No. I want a nice wedding. In a fancy hotel. Beautiful chapel, real flowers, petals strewn on the aisle. I want you to wear your dress uniform. I want Scotty and Uhura to wear theirs, too. In fact I want everybody to wear dress.”

Jim took a deep breath. “What about the reception?”

“That better have been swanky in the first place, Jim.”

“You still want the Liberace impersonator to play piano?”

“Oh yeah, we still want that.”

“We?”

McCoy looked at Jim. “We like Liberace.”

*

McCoy paid Uhura a visit and had her translate the text for him. “Teach me how to say this, Nyota."

*

Jim came to see him in his office. They were finally orbiting Earth. 

“Bones you sure don’t ask much, do ya? It took a bit of fancy finagling but I managed to reserve the nicest wedding chapel in Las Vegas. It’s at the Trump Hotel. You’re gonna love it.”

“Don’t tell me about it Jim, just let me be surprised. As long as it’s nice.”

“Yeah well, I ran into a snag with the wedding plans.”

“Oh?”

“Trump Hotel insists I must be a licensed officiant. Even if the ceremony ends up not being legally binding.”

“What about Commodore Stocker?”

“He said that was fine. So I got my license. I’m officially a minister now.”

McCoy smiled, shook his head and rolled his eyes. 

“So now,” Jim continued. “You’ll get a notification from Clark County if you want the marriage to be legal, so you’ll press the button ‘no’ and it’ll dump the marriage license. Alright?”

“That sounds fine, Jim.”

Jim wondered: “Bones, are you and Spock gonna kiss at the end of the vows? Should I tell Spock he can kiss you?”

“I don’t know, Jim. I don’t think so.”

“Would you be willing to kiss him? On the mouth?”

McCoy took a deep breath. He hadn’t thought about it. “I don’t...see that happening. I mean, this is Spock we’re talking about, so he’s not going to put his lips on another in public. I wouldn't expect that out of him.”

“Alright, Bones. Just asking. I’ll delete that bit from the ceremony.” Jim glanced down and noticed the Vulcan book on McCoy’s desk. “I told him you liked the gift.”

McCoy held up his hand and recited a paragraph in flawless Vulcan. 

Jim’s mouth dropped open. “Damned show off. Uhura been working with you? You don’t want to give your vows in Vulcan, do you?”

“No, we don’t have to go that far. Just a little wedding gift for Spock, that’s all.”

Jim shook his head and muttered under his breath. “So, we’re set for the wedding. Oh, by the way, I invited the whole entire ship. Figured that the hotel chapel can seat 300 so might as well. And they’re all coming to the reception.”

“Good God, Jim, that’s gonna be a tidy sum.”

“Yeah,” Jim said. “Don’t say I never did nothing for ya. See you later, Bones.”

*

The Trump Hotel Wedding Chapel turned out to be beautiful with rows of Buddha statues and flowers and a waterfall all lit up. It was outdoors and at midnight and under the stars, with rows of little fairy lights and lanterns strung up. Breathtaking. 

McCoy sat fretting in the dressing room, until Scotty came in, pinning a rose boutonniere onto McCoy's tunic. “Well, this is it, huh, Scotty?” 

The chief engineer clasped his arm and squeezed it.

He didn't know why he was so damned nervous. This wasn't real. 

Just keep remembering that. It isn't real. This is only so Jim can practice officiating. We're doing Jim a favor. That's all. 

Scotty walked him down the aisle. Everybody was there in full dress, the entire crew of the Enterprise. All of them standing up when he'd entered, grinning at him, not an Elvis in sight. 

Oh, God, he's gonna pass out. Scotty seemed to know this and held on to him, tighter. 

At the head of the chapel, waiting for him was Spock. Looking at him, the same way McCoy'd once looked at Jocelyn when they'd married so long ago.

Jim was there, officiating, obviously. Grinning from ear to ear. When McCoy reached the front, the captain winked at him. 

To his surprise, Spock reached out to him and they clasped hands and seeing the Vulcan again was a shock after a week of no contact, the butterflies in his stomach were flapping around and he could hardly breathe and he could almost pretend that this was real, it felt real, in fact it actually WAS real, now that Jim was a licensed minister. But as soon as he dumped the marriage license the next morning, then it would cease. But he could worry about that later on.

They said their vows and Jim did everything perfectly but when they came to the end, Jim hesitated slightly. He said: “I now pronounce you spouses as the authority vested in me by Clark County.”

Cheers erupted and they walked down the aisle together hand in hand.

It was odd, holding Spock's warm hand, those long fingers intertwined with his own. Damned odd.

*

The reception was hoppin’. They cut the six tiered wedding cake, fed it to each other. McCoy was tempted to smash it into the Vulcan’s face, but refrained, instead he fed it to him with a fork, but still getting a bit of it on Spock's lips. The Vulcan hadn't seemed at all phased by this, simply went along with things and licked the frosting off. The photographer took lots of pictures. They had a champagne toast just like any traditional wedding. Jim had obviously been coaching the Vulcan on what to do, because he played his part perfectly. Liberace was at the piano now, requisite candelabra in place and he was pretty damned good, the impersonator, you couldn’t even tell the difference. Wow, Jim spent a ton of credits. Lots of good food, champagne, you name it and all 300 crew were here. 

And as this was Las Vegas there were showgirl waitresses wearing nothing but pieces of feather to cover their intimate parts. McCoy could see Spock staring at them, with a raised eyebrow. He chuckled at the sight. This was all new for the Vulcan. 

McCoy sipped on a glass of champagne and stared out of the huge picture window in the corner. The reception room was up on the penthouse and the view was stunning, all the lights. 

He felt a presence at his elbow, immediately knew it to be his fake husband, before he even looked over. “Evening, Spock.”

“Good evening, Leonard.” 

McCoy reached for Spock's hand, without even thinking about it. He decided he enjoyed holding hands for as long as this would last. He wondered what it would be like to kiss Spock, for reals, but he stuffed that thought right down.

The reception finally ended. Everyone going to their respective rooms. Well, it was four in the morning. 

There was a wedding suite waiting for the 'happy couple' on the other side of the penthouse. They could have roomed separately but they went ahead and decided to share--get more perks from the casino, being a honeymooning couple. 

At the doorway, Spock paused. 

"What's the matter?" McCoy asked him.

"I am supposed to 'carry you over the threshold'. Am I not?"

McCoy giggled at that. "You really are playing this fake wedding up to the hilt. We don't have to do that. It's a silly tradition."

"Nonetheless, it is tradition."

"You really want to do that?"

"Affirmative." 

"Well, if you say so, Spock." He gave a grunt when Spock effortlessly picked him up and held him in his arms. "Aren't I heavy?"

"You are rather light. It is Jim that is heavy."

"You've carried Jim before?"

"Not like this."

McCoy couldn't stop laughing as Spock hoisted him through the doorway. The door closed behind them and Spock deposited him onto the heart shaped bed. At one point their mouths were inches from each other, but that was an accident. 

"Oh my God, Jim thought of everything!" McCoy said, in hysterics. "Heart shaped bed!"

"It is rather an interesting shape," Spock agreed.

McCoy tilted his head back and laughed his head off. After several long moments he finally was able to get up off the bed to remove his dress uniform. 

Spock got up also and hung it up for him.

"You don't have to do that, Spock."

"I do not mind."

Now in his underwear, McCoy wandered around the huge suite. There was a Jacuzzi in the floor, right next to another huge window. McCoy pointed to it. “We’re going in that tomorrow. Ever been in a hot tub?” 

“I have not.”

“Well you’re in for a treat. It'll feel just like normal temperature to you, but it will be all bubbly and soothing.”

“Indeed?”

“Yeah.”

McCoy was tipsy, of course and he suspected Spock was too, who’d also sampled the champagne so they both sprawled out on the big bed. 

McCoy glanced over at Spock. "Comfy?"

"Affirmative."

McCoy picked up the remote control next to the bed. "Want to see what's on the movie schedule?"

"Certainly."

Sometime during the movie they fell asleep in that huge bed. It was big enough, that they didn't have to snuggle. 'Snuggle', McCoy thought with a snort, like they really would have if they could absolutely help it. 

When McCoy woke in the afternoon of the next day, he found himself pressed right up against Spock, both of them in the middle of the bed. Well, old habits die hard, he used to like to cuddle up with Jocelyn. 

“Sorry,” McCoy muttered and moved away, sitting up in bed. 

He reached over to touch the Vulcan who woke with a start. 

“Hey,” McCoy said. “Sorry, I thought you were already awake.”

Spock’s hair was rumpled and he was sleep lined and McCoy noted the Vulcan was also in his underwear, he didn’t remember Spock getting into bed like that, and he had to admit the sight of him was--

“I have never slept that soundly before,” Spock said.

“I know, huh? This bed is so comfortable, I want to beam it aboard ship.”

“A large heart shaped bed would not fit into our quarters.”

McCoy chuckled. He jumped up from the bed. “I’m starving. Jim said we can have unlimited room service.”

“Excellent.” 

McCoy took a shower while they waited for the food. He came out, wearing only a towel. "You mind if I wear only this? Don't feel like getting dressed right now."

"A towel is fine, Leonard. I am not wearing much more clothing than yourself." 

His heart leaped that the use of his Christian name again. This easy sort of intimacy that was forming between them. He in a towel, Spock in his black teeshirt and regulation underwear. No pants, no socks, barefoot. They ate their late lunch in a comfortable, relaxed silence.

"It's good, isn't it, Spock?" McCoy finally said.

"Not as good as your cooking," Spock replied. 

McCoy blushed at that and said nothing. He was gonna miss cooking for Spock.

Afterwards, McCoy got up from the table. "About that hot tub. Spock you're gonna love this." He turned on the jets. “Oh shit.”

“What is it?”

“I forgot my swim trunks. Well, I hope you don’t mind if I get in buck naked, do you?”

“I do not mind. Vulcans swim in the nude.”

“They do, huh?”

“Affirmative.”

He grabbed a white fluffy towel, tossed one over to Spock. “Last one in’s a rotten egg.” He removed his own towel from his waist, dropped it by the side, got into the water, splashing as he did so, shrieking out in delight. 

Spock, right in front of him, seemingly unashamedly, removed his shirt and underwear. Nude as the day he was born, the Vulcan slipped into the hot tub. McCoy tried not to stare. Sure he'd seen Spock nude plenty of times, but never in this type of setting. “Fascinating,” Spock said.

“They’re great, aren’t they? I know you're wondering, where have these things been all my life? Right, Spock?”

At that, the door chimed. “Aw, who the hell is that?" McCoy grumped. "Pestering us in our honeymoon suite? Can’t be room service again, could it? Did you order more champagne, Spock?”

“Negative.”

“Maybe if we ignore them--they’ll go away.”

“That sounds...logical.”

McCoy reached over and touched Spock on the ear. “Nope, Baby, you don’t get to say the word ‘logic’ on our fake honeymoon.”

Whoever it was, wouldn’t go away. The annoying jerk kept on that damned buzzer. 

They got out, both naked, dripping water everywhere, putting towels around their waists. “Guess we should go see who it is,” McCoy growled. They crept up to the front door and looked at the monitor. “Oh goddammit, it’s Jim. Probably wants to take us to a show or the casino.” Should we open up the door?”

Spock sighed. “He will not go away, otherwise.”

“Hmm. Hey Spock, I have an idea. Play along with me, will you?”

“Certainly.”

He reached out, pulled Spock to him by the sides of the face and kissed him. 

"Ready?" McCoy breathed out.

Spock blinked at him in shock for a moment, before he smirked. "Yes."

McCoy got his body as close to the Vulcan as possible. He put Spock's arm around his waist, snuggled into the Vulcan's bare chest, other hand carding into the hair there, as he popped open the door. 

There was a gasp and a hiccup. “Oh, hi guys.”

McCoy reached up and pulled the Vulcan's mouth towards him again, kissed him again, then broke away from Spock’s mouth with a loud smack, making sure to show it was reluctantly. He stared into Spock’s eyes as dreamily as he could then nibbled on the Vulcan's neck. “Spock, Darlin', is somebody standing there?”

“I believe so.”

“Maybe they can’t read, because I do believe it says right there on the door, plain as day: ‘ _Do not disturb_ ’, doesn’t it, my sweet snookums?”

“I believe it does, Leonard.”

“So why are we being pestered on our honeymoon?”

“I do not know, Leonard.”

McCoy slipped his arms around the Vulcan's waist, ground his hips into Spock’s for effect. “Did you want something, Jim?” he said breathlessly.

“Uh, no. I didn’t want anything.”

“Y’sure now? I mean there must be some reason why y’all are bothering us.”

“Well, I brought some champagne and thought we’d have a toast before we went to see a Cirque show. I got us front row seats.”

"Can't Jim."

"Why not?"

"I can barely walk."

"Why can you barely walk, Bones?" Jim asked, completely clueless. "Did you injure yourself?"

"My ass hurts, Jim. If you must know. Sheesh. No privacy, is there." McCoy nuzzled his face into Spock's chest hair once again. "He still standing there, Snookums?"

"Indeed."

"Snookums? Your ass--" Jim seemed to gulp at that. "Oh. I see. But I thought this was a fake wedding, you weren't really gonna consummate it."

"Jim, you told me yourself. We're really--at this precise point in time, until I cancel the license-- married. So we thought we'd make the most of it."

"But, you--"

"Mmmm, Spock," McCoy murmured. He reached down Spock's torso, slid a finger into the edge of Spock's towel. 

"Guys, wait, your towels are gonna fall off, they're gonna fall off--" 

“Go away, Jim,” McCoy said, still looking into Spock’s eyes. “We’re on our fake honeymoon.”

"Spock, you okay?" Jim asked.

"I am fine, Jim."

“Alright guys, have fun. See you later when you can come up for air.”

“Mmmm, don’t count on it, Jim. We got two whole weeks to get to know each other better. Don't we, Spock?”

“Alright, alright, now you’re getting really creepy. You made your point. Bye.” And with that, Jim was gone. 

McCoy released Spock with a blush. He glanced out of the doorway, looked both ways down the hallway. He picked up the bottle of champagne Jim had left on the floor. 

They shut the door and McCoy broke down in hysterical laughter. “Did you see the look on his face? That was classic!" 

"I did."

McCoy quieted down his glee for a moment. "I'm sorry about that, Spock! I got a little carried away."

"It is quite alright, Leonard."

Showed him though, didn’t we?”

“We did.”

“That’ll teach that bastard. He won't be bothering us any longer."

"I am gratified."

"Unless you want to spend some of your leave with Jim. I don't need to hog you."

"I am quite content with your company for our entire shore leave."

"Are ya?" McCoy gazed at the Vulcan in surprise. "Hey, look. I'm sorry, about kissing you on the mouth. That was a bit too much."

Spock shrugged. "Why did you kiss me for the first time before the door opened?"

"Because--" McCoy halted. Because, he wanted the first time to be private, just between them. "I dunno," he said. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I know Vulcans don't kiss like that, unless it's with your spouse. A real spouse."

"As you said, at this particular point in time, we are legally married. So at this precise moment, you are my spouse, Leonard."

McCoy cleared his throat. "Yeah, but I'm going to cancel it. Soon as I get that message. Like we agreed to. Right?"

"Affirmative."

"Is that the first time you've ever kissed anyone?"

"Yes. We prefer to reserve the kiss for our mate."

"I'm your first? And I had to go and ruin you, huh? You have a past now, Spock." McCoy shook his head ruefully. He heard his PADD buzzing. He went over and retrieved it. 

McCoy was still chuckling and blushing when he scrolled through the messages. “Speak of the devil, here’s the Clark County marriage license.” he called out. "This message is final confirmation. Asking us if we want to be REALLY married from now on." He laughed again at that. "All have to do is say 'no' and it cancels the license."

“Ah,” Spock said, idly. By the sound of his voice, the Vulcan was already back in that damned jacuzzi. 

“Yeah, I’ll just get rid of it, real quick." McCoy pushed the button. 

The blinking reply said: “ _CONGRATULATIONS, you are now officially married. Your legal marriage license has been filed with Clark County registry office_." On screen there was an image of wedding bells and balloons along with the sound effect of fireworks. 

McCoy stared at it a moment. “Wait a minute!” McCoy sputtered. “Wait a minute--that can’t be right! WAIT JUST A DAMNED MINUTE!” 

“Leonard?” Spock called back.

“That can’t be right! That’s impossible! I pressed ‘no’!”

“What happened?”

McCoy trudged back over to the jacuzzi and solemnly got into it. He handed the PADD over to Spock. 

"' _CONGRATULATIONS,_ '" Spock read out. He raised an eyebrow.

McCoy shrugged. “Oops.”

______________________  
on to Chapter 5


	5. Chapter 5

"Oops, indeed," Spock replied. 

“I fucked up. I can't believe I fucked this up.” McCoy smacked his head with the palm of his hand. "We're...married, for reals. For reals, Spock. Can you believe that?" He looked at the Vulcan in dismay. "I can't believe it. I pushed the correct button. At least, I thought I did!" 

He sure as shit couldn't go through this again. He'd promised himself when he and Jocelyn had had that nasty divorce, never again. But here, unwittingly, he was married for the second damned time. Dammit. And poor Spock, this turn of events must be absolutely devastating to him. Married to Leonard McCoy. Just think of it! The first officer had been tricked into this crazy situation by Jim Kirk. Damn that jerk of a captain.

“I see," Spock said.

“I’m really sorry, Spock. These goddamned PADD’s!” McCoy held up a hand. “But I can fix that." His hands flew on the PADD, typing. "I'm messaging Clark County Courthouse, to have this sham of a marriage immediately annulled due to error. Or better, yet. Fraud!"

"Fraud," Spock repeated. "Of course."

McCoy tossed the PADD near his towel. "Dammit." He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I'm an idiot. A fucking moron. And I'm gonna strangle Jim when I see him again."

"This is of no consequence."

"It is! We're really married! Spock! You and I, married, to each other! The license has been filed! You're my goddamned husband! And I'm yours--" McCoy felt himself growing more and more hysterical by the minute. 

"I am aware of that, Leonard."

In a fit of pique, McCoy got up out of the Jacuzzi, splashing water everywhere as he did. "My name is _Doctor McCoy_ ," he informed the Vulcan in a cold tone of voice, his heart breaking as he did so. He wrapped the towel around his waist. 

"Where are you going?" Spock asked as McCoy crossed the suite. 

"The honeymoon's over. I'm putting some damned clothes on." 

*

Fully dressed now, in a comfortable pair of blue jeans, red cowboy boots and his 'Ol Miss' Tee-shirt, McCoy heard his PADD ping. "Ah, that must be Clark County now. Thank God." He glanced over and noticed that Spock had donned his regular Enterprise uniform. The Vulcan was now stiffly sitting on the edge of the heart shaped bed, hands clasped together, making a bizarre, yet solemn image. 

McCoy scooped up his PADD, tapped the screen to look at it: ' _Clark County marriage annulments must be made in person. Same day annulments are available, however requests must be made by 12:00 PM._ ' Damn, the hour was long past that time. ' _To schedule a an appointment for a next day annulment, press one._ ' He pressed the button. ' _Thank you. Your annulment appointment is at 10am._ '

"They can't do it immediately," he relayed to Spock. "I made the appointment for tomorrow morning. I guess both of us have to show up to the courthouse."

Spock nodded. 

McCoy tossed the PADD onto the nightstand. Alright, so they had to spend one more night together as a married couple. After that shock, now it was no big deal. 

Spock was now walking around the suite, McCoy glanced up at what he was doing. The Vulcan had the champagne bottle, from Jim Kirk, in hand.

"What are you gonna do with that?" McCoy asked.

"I am going to open it."

"What for? We're not celebrating anything."

"The champagne is pink," Spock said.

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"I find that I am rather fond of pink champagne. It is Dom Perignon."

McCoy had to giggle at that. "You like pink Dom Perignon champagne. How about that. Was Jim aware of that? You damned...Vulcan. You're right, we do need to drown our sorrows with some fancy bubbles. I'm gonna order some chocolate covered Strawberries to go with the champagne. Do you mind?" 

"Not at all," Spock told him and calmly opened up the bottle with a pop. 

McCoy smiled. "Who knew that our logical first officer could so deftly open up a bottle of champagne."

* 

He'd eaten most of the huge chocolate covered strawberries by now. Spock had had a strawberry also and explained to him that chocolate intoxicated Vulcans. 

Most of the champagne was gone. Spock, to his surprise and delight, had drunk as much as he had. Didn't seem to be a sloshed, however. Probably a good thing. 

Sometime during the evening the both of them had wound up in the center of the heart shaped bed again. Fully clothed this time. Their respective boots were off, however. 

McCoy leaned his head on the Vulcan's flat belly. "You mean..." he slurred out. "Chocolate is dangerous for Vulcans? Am I endangering our illustrious first officer's life, the best first officer in the fleet?"

"It not dangerous, it simply makes us intoxicated."

"And with the pink champagne, it's like a double whammy for you. Huh. Guess I'm gonna--" McCoy sat up, took another sip of the champagne, then went back to the Vulcan's lap. "Guess I'm gonna have to administer a stiff hangover cure for you, come morning."

"I have never suffered from alcoholic hangover."

"Ooh, I bet it's nasty for you guys. Nasty, nasty, nasty."

Spock shrugged. "I assume your potion will be much worse than the affliction. As always."

McCoy giggled like a madman. 

"What is it, Doctor?"

"You can call me 'Leonard'. I am your husband, for pete's sake."

"You told me to refer to you by your title."

"I know." McCoy chuckled. "I was being an asshole. Did you know you were married to such a jerk?" 

"Yes," Spock replied.

McCoy laughed out loud again, then said: "Stiff hangover cure. If we were really gonna be married from now on, I'd give you a stiff hangover cure. That's for sure." He gave out a dirty chuckle.

"I do not understand. Is that a sexual euphemism?"

"It is, indeed." McCoy reached behind him, touched the Vulcan's hair. It sure was silky. "I'm full of 'em. Euphemisms." He saw Spock's upside down smirk. "Mmmm." He closed his eyes and said in a slight dreamy tone: "Was I really your first kiss, Spock?"

"I told you it was."

"Did you enjoy it? Or don't Vulcans like to kiss at all?"

"I enjoyed it."

He opened his eyes, flipped over onto his elbows. "What did you enjoy about it?"

Spock shrugged. "The physical contact with another. Yourself."

"Kissing you felt differently than kissing anybody else, I can't explain it. Probably because it's been so long for me or most likely you felt different because you're a Vulcan. But it was unlike anything...'Course, I only--" McCoy reached to take another sip of the champagne then immediately flipped over to lay down again in Spock's lap. "I only really gave you a peck on the mouth. Not a real kiss. What they used to call on Earth a French Kiss, something to sink your teeth into. Get you all aroused." 

"I see. How long as it been for you?"

"A long time, Spock. I hope you don't mind me asking--and I blame the booze--you're a virgin, aren't you."

"The information is in my medical records."

"Yeah, but, I've never needed to access your personal sexual history before, so I usually don't really look at that part. I'm interested in how many broken bones you've had, how many illnesses, accidents, what drugs you can take, what components your blood is made out of, those important things. Maybe if you happen come up to me with an STD to treat, I might look at your history, but I really wish you would have told me about the pon farr, would have made my job a lot easier--"

"I am a virgin."

"You've never had sexual contact? With anyone?"

"That is correct."

"My God," McCoy breathed out. "You're so...pure. I feel so... defiled and dirty... next to you."

"Sexual activity for a Vulcan is reserved solely for the marriage relationship."

"You and I are married."

"Yes."

"Is this marriage legal on Vulcan?"

"It is."

"So...you and I could do it...could make love... and it would be allowed...for you. Right?"

"We could."

McCoy giggled again. "No. No. No. We'd have to get a divorce then. Can't annul a consummated marriage. I'm not gonna ruin you for your REAL marriage. The marriage you really want. Someday. Some lucky person or sentient being, would love to be married to you. And I can see why."

"T'Pring my previous betrothed, did not wish to marry me," Spock told him.

"She's an idiot. Did you a favor."

"The feeling was mutual," Spock whispered.

"At least you've never gone through the pain of divorce. I don't wish that on anybody." McCoy got himself up from Spock's lap, rolled over so that his back was now aligned with the front Spock's body. He could feel Spock's breath on the back of his neck. "I'm sleepy, Spock."

"We are on a heart shaped bed, the most comfortable bed in the universe, so it is not as if you have far to go, to sleep," Spock replied. 

McCoy snickered. "You're funny. You know that? Who knew you were so witty?" He reached over and grabbed his PADD off of the nightstand. "Setting the alarm."

"Why not request a wake-up call from the hotel?"

"Hmmm. Don't feel like calling them. This is fine."

"If you say so, Leonard." 

McCoy shifted to lay on his back. "Goodnight, Spock." He leaned his face over, realizing that he was much too close to the Vulcan, but he didn't move away. The booze was telling him to kiss that Vulcan bast-- his husband. Come on. Just one little kiss. Just one. That's all. 

Instead, he reached for Spock's hand, seemed like a safer alternative and closed his eyes. "Don't you worry about a thing, Spock. We'll have it annulled. Tomorrow morning."

"Goodnight, Leonard."

_______________  
on to chapter 6 (yes, there's now a chapter 6!)


	6. Chapter 6

He was aware of a faint pinging. Breaking into his delightful dream, him in a meadow full of frolicking rabbits and elves and-- _beeeeeep_. 

The sound grew louder. What an annoying noise. He's on leave. Somebody must be trying to contact him. Must be Jim. Not talking to that idiot. Must make the noise go away. He snaked a hand around, hit the screen with his palm. Aw, much better. 

It was hot in here, why was he fully clothed? Fabric was cutting into his skin. He pulled off his tee-shirt, undid the fastening to his pants, moved out of them. He snuggled against the body next to him. Mmmmm. Felt good. He fell back asleep.

*

McCoy snorted awake. As he became aware of his surroundings he found himself smashed up against Spock, spooning him. The first officer lay on his side, facing away from him, by the looks of him, sound asleep and McCoy--McCoy had his morning wood (his nocturnal penile tumescence, caused by hypervasodilation in the capillaries of his body, resulting in said erection) hitting up against Spock's ass. Surely the Vulcan could feel that. Dammit. 

Spock was down to his regulation tee-shirt and underpants and McCoy realized he himself was wearing boxer shorts and nothing else. He groaned and rolled over onto his back. 

Spock stirred at that point and flipped over to face him, a section of his bangs sticking straight up. God, Spock looked good when he first woke up. All disheveled and vulnerable. McCoy tried not to smile at that.

"Good morning, Leonard," Spock said. 

McCoy chuckled at the rough sound of the Vulcan's voice. "We wound up in our skivvies again. How'd we manage that?"

"I do not know."

It was the second damned time they'd woke up cuddling, half naked. Needed to cut that shit out right quick. Body was starting to get confused. Making his dick think he was gonna get some action. McCoy glanced down at himself and noticed the wetness on his underpants from pre-cum. Embarrassed, he hid his groin with the duvet. "Time is it?" he wondered before he grabbed at his PADD. 

Holy fuck. HOLY FUCK. "Spock?"

"Yes?"

"We missed the fucking appointment. I set my alarm. It must not have went off! Damned PADD!"

"Appointment?" Spock rasped out. 

"The annulment appointment, at the courthouse!" McCoy flung himself out of bed. "The appointment was at ten. Remember? It's almost noon now, Vegas time. 11:45 AM. Well, let's not panic. If we hurry we can make another same day appointment." He grunted as he tripped over his own clothing flung around the base of the bed. 

"Are you alright?" Spock asked. 

McCoy trudged over to the massive bathroom (seriously this room was bigger than his quarters) with two sinks, two toilets and one giant shower (large enough to fit an army inside of it) and a round bathtub to boot. 

Ah, now the guy with the jackhammer decided to get to work on his skull. Ouch. "What's with the scratchy voice, Spock? You're not getting a cold, are you?" he snapped back. 

"No."

"Are you still in bed? Get up! GET UP, you lazy Vulcan," McCoy shouted back. He lifted up the seat of the toilet, didn't bother shutting the door behind him, privacy seemed to have gone out the airlock anyway. He dug through the flap in his shorts, pulled out his dick, waited for that damned erection to go down before he could urinate. "GET UP!" he screamed out. He took the longest pee ever then waved his hand over the sensor to flush.

"I'm up," Spock called back. "No need to shout."

"Get ready so we can git!" 

"I am," Spock called back. "I need to bathe."

"Fine, get your fucking ass in here. Not like I haven't seen you naked already. Hurry up and get into the fucking shower!" McCoy stared into the mirror, his eyes were nice and bloodshot. Just perfect. His head thumped and pounded. Dammit, he didn't feel so good. Hung over. Damned pink champagne. His medical bag with the hypo was with his suitcase on the other side of the suite.

He gasped. Then retched. _Oh oh_. 

Spock finally entered the bathroom. McCoy glanced over for an instant and noticed to his delight that Spock suffered from the same affliction as a fully human male--he also had morning tumescence. But the damned Vulcan seemed to stand there looking back at him, bewildered. 

McCoy turned back to the toilet, kneeled down at the basin and promptly threw up. Goddamned pink champagne. 

He was aware of a body behind him, rubbing his back. "Stop it! Go and get my medical bag," he snapped. "Hurry up."

Spock stood up and obediently exited the bathroom. 

McCoy flushed the toilet again, got a glass of water and the wait for relief felt like an eternity but it must have been only seconds later when the Vulcan returned with the bag. 

"Give it--give it here." His stomach was churning, he needed to puke again. 

"You did not make the bag easy to locate. It was in the bottom of your suitcase."

"Never mind!" McCoy grabbed at the bag, dug in it, located the hangover hypo and hit it against his wrist. Waited a few seconds. Ah, much better. "Spock, give me your hand." Spock did. McCoy gave him a hypo shot. "How's that?" 

Spock nodded. 

"How's your voice?"

"Better."

"Dammit, I'm never drinking pink champagne as long as I live," McCoy swore. "Ever. I mean it. You stay away from that evil stuff, too. Ya hear?"

Spock shrugged, then yawned. McCoy shook his head at the odd sight. Spock removed his shirt, his underpants and moved to the other toilet and urinated, seemingly unconcerned about McCoy watching with eagle eyes, every move he was making. 

"What time is it?" McCoy wondered. 

Spock flushed the toilet, then proceeded to wash his hands in the sink. "Five past noon. Las Vegas Time."

"12:05? Oh, shit!" McCoy hurried out of the bathroom. 

"Relax, Doctor," Spock called out to him in an obviously amused tone of voice. "I made another appointment, before the deadline."

McCoy re-entered the bathroom. "You did?" He grinned in relief. "What time?"

"Three PM, Vegas time."

"Oh, good. We can eat something before we get going."

*

He got into the shower and then Spock got in, too. When McCoy's eyes widened at that, Spock simply shrugged. "It conserves time, does it not?"

McCoy relaxed. "S'pose you're right." 

He tried not to stare at a slippery, naked, soapy Vulcan. Water sliding down the cleft of his ass.

*

They ordered room service, sat down and ate their late breakfast in their towels. 

"I think I'm going to comm Jim after the appointment, see if he wants to go see a show with us or something, tonight. Alright?" McCoy muttered.

"You do not require my permission to see Jim. However, I shall remain behind, here in the suite and engage in work on my PADD."

McCoy looked up, mid bite on his toast. "Work? During leave?" 

"Affirmative." 

"You don't want to see Cirque de Soleil?"

"Negative."

"Oh. Alright. Well. I'll...uh..." McCoy took a huge sip of his coffee. "I'll get you a tee-shirt. How about that?"

Spock smirked. "If you wish."

"Would you wear it?"

"Perhaps."

"What's your favorite color, Spock?"

"Vulcans do not have a favorite color," the Vulcan replied.

"Oh come on, sure you do. What is it?"

"Red," Spock replied. 

McCoy stared at the gaudy ring Jim had given him to propose to Spock with-- and it still wouldn't come off. Damned oversized ruby and silly diamonds. Damned sham wedding. Should have known there'd be a hiccup to Jim's evil plans. He'd forgotten the ring was still on his finger, till now. It seemed to demand his attention. 

"Red's my favorite color, too," he said with a scowl.

*

He brushed his teeth in the bathroom, then donned a pair of boxer shorts, silk this time. Then he put on another 'Ol Miss' tee-shirt, but then he removed that one and decided to slip on a white button up shirt, with tiny pin stripes. He paired this with a blue jacket, then dove into a pair of jeans, white socks and his red cowboy boots. He combed his hair down. Got rid of the cowlick, but it sprang up again. 

He came out of the bathroom to discover Spock standing at the huge window, looking out at the gorgeous view. The Vulcan wasn't in uniform, he wore a pair of black trousers, a shirt, heavy corduroy jacket and a plaid scarf. Spock did not appear to be the talented scientist he was, he looked like an artist in that get up.

"That's what you're wearing?" McCoy drawled out. He knew he was covering up, couldn't very well let the hobgoblin know he liked what he saw. 

Spock met his eyes in an uncertain, shy way, how very uncharacteristic of him. "It is rather chilly out there. Is it not?"

"Sure, it's only 90 degrees out. Chilly."

"Is that all?"

"I was only kidding. It's not 90. It's 70 F. Windy outside. So, you're right. Not the warmest day in Vegas. It can get up to 120 sometimes. In the summer."

"I know." Spock turned to face him. "Your attire is rather fetching. The blue jacket matches your eyes."

"Does it? I thought maybe since they're so bloodshot, they match my red boots instead," he joked.

"Indeed."

"Well, uh, you don't look so bad yourself. I don't usually see you in civvies." 

Spock bowed his head. "My duty uniform needs to be laundered."

"You only brought one set?" 

"Affirmative." They fell into an awkward silence, before Spock said: "I should return this to you." 

"Huh?"

"Your ring."

"Oh. I uh--"

"Since we are about to dissolve the marriage, you should have this back. It did belong to your mother," Spock said. "Is that not correct?" 

The Vulcan was about to slide it off, when McCoy told him: "Wait, Spock. I want you to keep it."

"Why?"

"It wasn't your fault this whole episode went south. You, in good faith, went along with this whole charade--you were a good sport about it. And when I proposed, I meant it. And we did actually marry. So the ring is yours. Legally."

"I do not understand. How could you mean the proposal, if the marriage was to be fake?"

"The ring was a legitimate gift. I don't want it back. It was my mother's and...I want you to have it. Unless you don't want it?"

Spock stared at the ring on his pinky. "I would like to keep it. Thank you." 

"I do you want me to return the coin?" McCoy asked. "That was also given at my proposal. I mean...I still can return it."

"No. I wish for you to keep it."

"The gifts you gave me meant a lot to me," McCoy whispered. "Meant everything to me."

"Did they?" 

McCoy nodded. "Why did you want me to propose marriage like that, traditionally, in the first place?"

"I wished to see what a traditional Terran Marriage proposal was like."

"Just like that, huh? Well, I had fun proposing. Reliving my giddy first time around. I suppose. Before it all went to hell." He flashed Spock a small smile then reached over and grabbed onto the Vulcan's hand, gave it a squeeze. "It's almost time to go, Honey. The courthouse is about a ten minute cab ride away." This would be the last time he could call Spock a pet name and get away with it.

"Do you miss your wife?" Spock asked. 

"Hell no. But, I do, sometimes, miss being married. It's different than living with someone, feels different. I mean, I don't know what Vulcan marriage is like and I sure as hell didn't enjoying witnessing your wedding ceremony to T'Pring--"

"That was not a wedding ceremony--it was a rejection," Spock said, abruptly.

"A public rejection. Not very nice, was it."

Spock shrugged. "It was necessary. Like our annulment. Correct?"

McCoy chuckled ruefully at that. "Well, Spock, it's time to go." He took another long look at the Vulcan. "Hey, uh. Would I be out of line in uh, asking...uh...."

"Yes?"

"Could I kiss you, for the last time? Would you mind? I mean you've already done it once, and we are married, still...so...uh...."

"Yes."

Before either one of them could chicken out, McCoy pulled Spock to him by the back of the neck and met that warm mouth. Except this time, instead of it being a relatively quick peck, he relaxed his lips, let the kiss linger as he felt Spock relax against him. He slid an arm around the Vulcan's waist, pulled him even closer, their hips pressing together. He opened his mouth, felt Spock's open as well, the Vulcan seemed to be following his lead. He slid his tongue in, felt Spock's against his. 

Oh God, this feels so good. He could keep this up forever. Felt so nice. So right. He started getting tingly down below, so he abruptly broke the kiss and pulled away. 

To his embarrassment, there was a trail of spit between them. Spock's pupils seemed to be blown with arousal. McCoy wondered if his own eyes looked like that. 

McCoy breathed heavily for a few moments. "Well, that's a--" He gulped. "French kiss, if I've ever had one." Jesus. He adjusted himself in his pants. "I'll tell ya something I'll never admit again-- it's a pity you're a virgin. If you weren't, after the annulment was all taken care of, I'd push you into that shower and fuck the hell out of you."

Spock, wide eyed, open mouthed, breathed out: "Indeed?"

McCoy blushed. "Well, uh... that was out of line of me, wasn't it. Again. I'm sorry, Spock. You'll have to forgive me."

"You find me attractive?"

McCoy met Spock's eyes before looking away. "My feelings are of no consequence at this time." He grabbed onto Spock's hand again. "Come on. We're gonna be late."

But, Spock didn't budge. "Leonard?"

"Come on, Spock! Let's go."

"I do not wish to annul the marriage."

___________________  
on to chapter 7 (yes, one more)


	7. Chapter 7

McCoy coughed. "Care to run that by me again?"

"I do not wish to annul the marriage, Leonard," Spock told him again. "I wish to remain married, to you."

"WHAT?! You're kidding."

"I am not."

"You--" McCoy was going to say, 'you goddamned green blooded idiot', but there was no need for nasty name calling. "No. Absolutely not. Absolutely NOT!"

"No?" 

McCoy tried to shake his hand free from the talons but Spock wouldn't let go of him. "Spock. No. Dammit, no."

"You were the one who said that you wished to, and I quote: 'fuck the hell out of me' in the shower."

"You're right, I do want to fuck you!" McCoy said. "I can barely keep my damned filthy paws offa you! You want to know the truth? Huh? I find you the sexiest thing I've ever seen!" He paused, flicked a glance to the side, then back to glare at the obstinate first officer. "But that doesn't mean I wish to be married! I mean...is that why YOU want to stay married? So you can have sex? That doesn't make any logical sense in the first place, you don't need to be married to have sex! Waiting till marriage is..." He gestured wildly in the air. "Ridiculously old fashioned!" 

Spock dropped McCoy's hand. "Virginity before marriage is Vulcan tradition. Our ways are not to be mocked."

All of the anger immediately left McCoy. "You're right. It was wrong of me to judge you. I'm sorry. But, that's it, we're going to the courthouse. I'm not staying married. You can forget it."

Spock nodded. "As you wish."

McCoy stomped over to the nightstand and picked up his PADD. He typed in his request for a land taxi to the courthouse, with a little bit more force than was necessary. ' _Thank you_ ," the message said. ' _Your taxi shall be available in...60 seconds. Please make your way to the taxi area, located south east of the Trump Hotel lobby_.' 

McCoy moved to the front door. "Listen, Spock, if you don't show up with me for the annulment appointment right now, then I'm filing for divorce. I don't need your help to do that. I mean it. Then you definitely WILL have a past!"

"I am right behind you," Spock told him. 

*

It was pretty damned cold outside, even for McCoy, as they made their way to the taxi stand. "Are you alright, Spock?"

"Affirmative," came the terse reply. 

*

They entered the taxi, sat down, made themselves comfortable. 

"So where are you two lovebirds headed?" the cab driver asked. 

"The courthouse," McCoy grumbled. 

"To get married? Congratulations! Line's not too long over there, you're in luck!" With a lurch, the taxi pulled away from the curb. 

"No...uh...we're uh...." McCoy halted, looked down at his hands, stared at the stupid ruby ring on his finger.

"Getting a marriage license, then? Want me to wait for you, then take you to the chapel afterwards?"

"Uh, no, that's alright." McCoy glanced up. "How'd you know we were a couple?"

"It's obvious, the way he looks at you. He's in love with you." The cab driver motioned at Spock. "I mean I've had several Vulcans come through here to get married, but they've never looked at their spouses-to-be like your special guy is looking at you."

McCoy threw a glance over at Spock, who turned away. 

*

The cab was nearly at the courthouse, just a few more minutes. The cab wound through traffic like it was on a racetrack.

McCoy rubbed the sweat off of his brow. He couldn't do this, couldn't be married. Never again. Not even to Spock. Especially not to Spock. It didn't matter if he found Spock attractive. Or maybe Spock might make a great husband. He and Spock might be happy together. But, he couldn't bear to have this marriage go bad in a few years, just like it had with Jocelyn. He'd thought he and Jocelyn were going to be together the rest of their lives. It might have lasted, if he hadn't fucked it all up. As soon as they'd married, he threw himself into his residency, never had time for her. But she understood, she put up with his crap, she loved him, she never complained. 

Then he paid all of that back by cheating on her with Nancy. By then she was tired of the abuse. Had wised up to his antics. She cheated on him in retaliation. He forgave her but then he wouldn't give up his mistress, like he'd promised he would. Then he wound up outright walking out on Joss for Nancy. Then that relationship went bad, too. He and Nancy were doomed from the start. With the built up guilt he had in his heart, it had hardened him, made him an asshole. A drunken prick. A few violent arguments and Nancy had had enough, she went and married Crater. 

He made a lousy husband, that was for sure. A lousy boyfriend. Sometimes those qualities that made him a good doctor, the ridiculously long hours, the dedication, the workload, the stubbornness, made him a terrible partner, that's all. 

He just couldn't bear to hurt Spock, someday. Better to put a stop to all this right now. Nip this shit in the bud. 

They could still share the suite for the remaining time. As friends. They were comfortable enough together. No sense in wasting it. Spock, however, might not see it like that. He might prefer to move to a different room. Well, they'd discuss that later.

His stomach was starting to hurt again. Hangover hypo was starting to wear off. "Ohhh," he groaned. He let his hands fall onto the vinyl seat, then leaned forward. 

Suddenly he felt Spock's warm hand brushing against his. Fingers touching. Fuck it, so what if they were ending the marriage, they could still be affectionate. He grabbed Spock's hand and squeezed it. 

The taxi came to a stop. "Here we are!" the driver announced then turned around to study McCoy. "Awww, you got them butterflies? Oh, don't worry. Marriage is wonderful! Me and my lovely wife got married here at the courthouse, twenty five years ago."

"Congratulations," Spock told him as he handed over his credit chip. "Keep the change, please."

"Thank you!" The driver beamed from ear to ear. 

McCoy got out of the cab, Spock following. 

"Sure you don't want me to wait for you?" the driver called out.

Spock nodded. The cab zoomed off.

"Why'd you tip him so goddamned much, Spock?" McCoy grumped. 

"He transported us here, quickly, as you wanted."

"Yeah, but--Jesus, what a lead foot. I think he might have set a new land speed record."

Spock shrugged as they moved through the main doors of the courthouse. The lobby proved to be crowded with throngs of people. "Holy shit," McCoy said at the sight. "This place is like the damned DMV. Well, let's find the 'annulments' window."

They wound their way though the crowd to discover that there was long line at 'Window C', designated as the annulments window, snaked around the sides of the building. "This the end of the line?" McCoy asked the couple in front of him. They nodded. 

"Wait a minute, we have an appointment. We don't need to stand in a huge line," McCoy said. "Spock go inquire. I'll wait here."

Spock nodded and made his way up to the front, then returned to him, seconds later. "We must wait in this line. Everyone else here has the same appointment time."

"Everybody in this line is here to get an annulment?"

"Apparently so."

McCoy exhaled. "Everybody's changing their minds too, huh? Dumb asses. Don't they have any respect for the institution of marriage?" 

His communicator beeped. Dammit. Please don't be a medical call or something else requiring them to return to the ship. Please. They needed to get this business taken care of, today. He pulled it off his jeans and flipped it open. "McCoy."

" _Bones_?"

"Yeah, Jim?"

" _Where are you? It sure is loud, wherever you are. Tell me--that's an order-- where are you_?"

"We're in a jacuzzi, Jim," McCoy lied.

" _The big one? Outside? Must be crowded. S'matter, you don't like the private one in your swanky suite?_

"We thought'd we'd get out amongst the living for a bit."

" _Mind if I join you two_?" 

"Yes, we do mind. Thank you very much."

" _Oh. Well, hey, since your marriage is now over with, how about coming to see a Cirque show with me? You and Spock_?"

"Nope."

" _Oh, come on! I'm...kinda lonely_."

"Not my problem. We're busy, Jim. What makes you think we're not still married?"

" _Because you said you were canceling the license."_ "

"Well, we filed it. We're still married."

" _You're kidding. You filed it_?"

"Uh huh."

" _No!_ " Jim said in a shocked voice. " _Really_?"

"Really, Jim. I'm not shittin' you."

" _So, you and Spock are married, for real?_ "

"Uh huh."

" _Oh. Well, congrats. I guess I owe Janice Rand 100 credits. Okay. So, it looks like you're busy for two weeks. Well. Enjoy your REAL honeymoon_."

"We sure will, Jim. Oh, I gotta go. Spock's wearing this speedo I bought him. A regular banana hammock. Leaves nothing to the imagination. You should see it."

" _I'd rather not. Kirk out_."

McCoy popped it shut. He put it back down at his hip and chuckled like a madman.

"You are not very nice," Spock said.

"I know. I'm evil."

*

By the time they FINALLY reached the clerk at 'Window C', it was dark outside. McCoy glanced down at his PADD. Seven PM Vegas time. Place was still hoppin'. They'd waited in line for four hours? That can't be right. What is this, the ER? "Doesn't this place ever close?" he asked the clerk. 

"Nope. We're open 24 hours."

"Huh. How about that."

"You want an annulment?" 

"Yes," McCoy told her. 

The clerk handed McCoy a PADD. "Fill this out. Go down the hall, first door on the left. The judge will be in there shortly to grant the annulment."

"Thank you."

*

They sat down in the chambers. McCoy hurried up and filled out the PADD as Spock sat there, expressionless. 

"Spock," McCoy said. "How do you spell your family name?"

"Spock is sufficient."

"They need a family name on here."

Spock gave a very put upon sigh, much like in the style of what McCoy would do in a situation like this. Where the hell did he learn that behavior? McCoy eyed him then handed over the PADD for the Vulcan to fill out. 

Just then the judge entered the chamber and sat down in her robes. "Annulment?"

"Yes," McCoy said. "That's correct, Ma'am. Or, rather, 'Your Honor'."

The judge took the PADD from Spock. "Reason for wishing an annulment?"

Spock was about to say, 'fraud' but McCoy kicked him under the table, and said: "We're allowed to change our minds, right?"

"Oh, of course you are. Just making sure the wedding wasn't fraudulent or anything. Then we do an investigation into that situation."

"You do? Oh, no. It wasn't anybody's fault. Nobody misrepresented themselves. We changed our minds, right Spock?"

Spock shrugged at that. McCoy scowled at him. 

"Was the marriage consummated?" the judge asked.

"Negative," Spock replied. 

McCoy studied his hands.

"Was this marriage consummated?" she asked McCoy. 

He darted his head up. "No. Sure wasn't." He watched the judge's fingers fly on the PADD. He tapped the armrest. Shuffled his feet. Tilted his head back. Glanced over at Spock. The way Spock was staring back at him, almost looked like the Vulcan wanted to cry. It was undeniable. The hurt in those dark eyes. He was breaking Spock's heart. Like the cab driver had said, Spock was in love with him. "Hey uh...listen. Your Honor?"

"Yes?"

"I changed my mind."

"Yes, I know. You said you did. That's allowed, under the law," the judge replied.

"No I meant, about the annulment. I changed my mind about that. I want to stay married," McCoy said. 

Spock raised an eyebrow. 

"Oh. That's a shame," the judge said.

"It is?" McCoy asked.

"Yeah. I wish you'd stopped me sooner. I just dissolved the marriage."

"You mean...it's annulled?" McCoy asked. 

"Yes. As of right now, you two are no longer married. It's as if you never were. That will be seventy-five credits please."

____________________  
on to chapter 8


	8. Chapter 8

A strangled noise came forth out of McCoy's mouth, from deep within the pit of his stomach: " _Awwrureuejjjjahhhhh_ ," it sounded like.  A sickly, sinking, horrible feeling came over him as he chewed on the judge's words. _As if they never were married_.

Spock handed over his credit chip to the judge.

"Thank you," she told him.

"Wait," McCoy breathed out. "Wait a minute."

The judge pressed a button on her PADD. "I've sent you a receipt."

"Wait a minute," McCoy repeated.

"Thank you, Your Honor," Spock told the judge.

"Wait," McCoy said.

"If you'll just make your way out, you're all taken care of," the judge told the both of them.

"Wait," McCoy said, again.

"Yes?" the judge finally asked.

McCoy motioned frantically between Spock and himself. "Can we get re-married?  I mean, is it possible?"

"Of course you can."

"Today?"

"Yes, there's no waiting period."

McCoy sighed with relief and relaxed in his chair.  "Oh. Oh, good."

"You'll have to get back in line in the lobby.  Window A.  Weddings require a Justice of the Peace. You need a new license from the clerk." 

"But can't you draw up a license real quick, since we're already here...you're licensed to perform weddings.  Can't you marry us, in chambers?  Right now?"

"No. Sorry."

"But--"

"I don't handle weddings. Only annulments and divorces."

"Doctor." Spock shook his head 'no' then stood up.

The judge exited, leaving them alone.

"Spock," McCoy began. "Wait."

Spock ignored him and made his way to the door.

Like a shot, McCoy got up from his seat, ran interference. "Spock.  Will you wait a minute?  We'll just get married again. We'll call Jim. We'll do the ceremony over again. Right?"

"Negative."

Negative? Did Spock just say negative...as in, 'no he doesn't want to get married'? No! Panic welled up in McCoy's heart once again. Can't be 'no'. Spock's the one who first suggested _staying_ married in the first place. Dammit, it can't be 'no'! Suddenly marrying Spock was the most important thing in the universe. They had to get married again. He wanted nothing more than to be Spock's husband. Fuck his own sorry past. Time to move on from past mistakes. They could do this, be happy together. It would take work, but goddammit he was ready to tackle anything. He could kick himself for demanding that stupid annulment.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice breaking. "Spock, I'm sorry."

"As am I."

"I made a mistake."

"You are correct. However, we rectified our mistake."

"No. The marriage wasn't a mistake, Spock. The annulment was."

McCoy leaned over towards the first officer but instead of meeting Spock's lips he kissed only the air between them.  Spock had pulled back, as he'd feared the Vulcan would.

"I just spent seventy five credits, Leonard. The annulment stands," Spock informed him.

"Blast you, I'll pay you the damned money back. Spock!"

But Spock only shook his head again. He went through the doors as they opened for him. McCoy didn't follow.

As the doors slid shut in Spock's wake, McCoy slumped back down in the chair and simply sat there in a stupor for several moments.

His face contorted, but he refused to let those tears fall down his face. He ran his thumbnail down the adjacent finger, hard enough to make it hurt. He tried to twist off the gaudy ring from his finger, this ruby monstrosity.  

He wanted to sling this ugly piece of jewelry over the desk.  Throw it against the opposite wall.  Wanted to hear and see it bounce off of that ugly wood paneling.  Why'd he ever slip this damned thing on his finger?  The first thing he was gonna do when he beamed back to the ship was perform an amputation of this pesky ring via laser scalpel.  Who cares if Jim decreed it to be highly valuable?  It's nothing more than junk, a memory of his own idiocy for even thinking of participating in this stupid charade.  It was plainly obvious Spock had wised up to his crap and changed his mind like the smart Vulcan he was.

McCoy had a sudden vision of he and Spock going at it, all sweaty and panting in that massive shower of theirs in the suite--

He shut that thought right down. Spock wasn't about to make love without benefit of marriage. And he, McCoy, had managed to royally screw up that possibility.

They COULD have been _fucking_ right now. Married sex, in that aforementioned shower, in the hot tub, on the heart shaped bed. Instead they were wasting time here, unmarried, in this godawful hellhole. Dammit, why did he insist on that annulment?

The ring still wouldn't come off. Damn. He kept trying, spun it around his ring finger but it kept halting when it hit his knuckle.

He let out a sigh.  

Well. Now what? Go groveling up to Jim, tail between his legs, bunk with the captain for the rest of shore leave?  That sounds like fun.

He sure wasn't gonna beg Spock to marry him again. Goddamned pointy eared first officer wants to be stubborn, hell, let him. He can be stubborn all on his own, in that fantastic suite of theirs.

McCoy stood up and moved to the doors. They opened up to reveal that damned Vulcan on the other side of them. McCoy jumped slightly. He wasn't expecting Spock to be right there, waiting.

"What do you want," McCoy growled.

"You are holding up traffic."

"So?"

"So," Spock told him. "We risk bodily injury from the throng. Please vacate the chambers."

"Fine." McCoy stomped out, past Spock, so that the next idiots could make the same mistake, ending THEIR marriages. His nose was running. He reached up to wipe it, then realized tears had in fact streaked down his face. Spock had seen them, had witnessed him cry over him. Dammit.

"I will take you out to dinner," Spock offered in an apparent attempt to soothe him as they walked down the short hallway en route to the main lobby. "Where would you like to eat?"

"I'm not hungry."

Spock nodded and said nothing.

McCoy concentrated on the _tap tap tap tap_ of his red cowboy boots on the tile floor. These had been his favorite shoes. Now he'd only be reminded of this horrible day if he ever dared to wear these things again. They'll have to be shoved deep into his closet back on board ship.

The lobby was even more jammed with people, now that it was about 8pm Vegas time. These fools wanted to get their licenses in time for their midnight ceremonies, probably. Idiots willing to spend four or more hours in line to marry their special someone.

It was hot in here, all these bodies, waiting patiently, like cattle to the slaughterhouse.   _Mooo_!  He felt like yelling at them, like a petulant child.   _Mooo_!  

As Spock wound his way through, McCoy followed in his wake.

Almost to the main door, now.

McCoy's hands grew sweaty. With his right hand he wiped his left, pulling on his fingers.

Lo and behold the gaudy red ring slid off his finger and passed into his hand.

He stopped to stare at the object now resting in his palm. "Well, I'll be damned."

Spock walked several more paces before seeming to realize McCoy wasn't there. He came back. "Are you alright, Leonard?"

McCoy looked up at him. "Huh? Yeah."

"The taxi's are outside," Spock said.

The sensation of butterflies hit his stomach, his chest. "Spock?"

Spock gazed back at him, concern etched on those Saturine features. It was...to coin a phrase... _fascinating_ to constantly note just how expressive Spock's face actually was. Obviously the first officer didn't usually grin outright, or laugh or frown or cry or shout when angry, at least not around others-- Spock's expression of emotions proved much more subtle, but apparent. And McCoy knew him long enough to know that Spock felt very deeply, contrary to popular belief.

McCoy always knew when Spock found something he'd said to be humorous, or that it angered him. He knew when Spock felt pain from injury just by looking into his eyes. He knew when he'd hurt Spock from saying something nasty. Wounded him by his actions. Like now.

He found Spock to be the most romantic individual he'd ever experienced, more so than himself, but Spock would never admit to it. Spock always claimed to be entirely ruled by logic, not emotions, but that was bullshit. Spock had wanted to stay married to McCoy's crazy ass after all.

In those dark eyes, right now, McCoy could see pure, unbridled love. Some regret mixed in. Just like in the taxi, on the way here.

"Yes?" Spock asked.

Everything slowed down. Right now, just he and Spock. Nobody else. All those other overheated bodies in this here courthouse lobby, disappeared.

Keeping eye contact with the Vulcan, he sank down to one knee.

Spock raised an eyebrow.

"I love you, Spock," McCoy told him.

Spock cocked his head slightly, didn't say 'I love you, too' or anything similar. They were out in public and McCoy was embarrassing the first officer, he could tell and he was sorry for it. A green tint formed on the Vulcan's cheek and ears.

"Really?" Spock said, instead.

He should get up. Knock this shit off. A crowded public lobby was not the place for this. Most undignified. Unseemly. Private matters should never be dealt with in public.

But dammit, he didn't care. Not right now.

"Yes, Spock.  I love you... so goddamned much," McCoy said, louder this time, almost shouting it. "Will you marry me?" McCoy held up the ruby ring in his fingers, aware of there being hundreds of pairs of eyes on them. A pin could drop in the now silence. But he still didn't care. Dammit, he did not care one iota if he humiliated himself or if he made the both of them look ridiculous. He just wanted one thing.

"Please, Spock? Will you marry me?"

_____________________  
On to chapter 9


	9. Chapter 9

Spock didn't say a word, only stood there blinking at him. The bodies in the overheated, overcrowded courthouse lobby staring holes through the both of them all seemed to await the Vulcan's response on baited breath.

But...there was a delighted sparkle in those dark eyes looking back at him. It was unmistakable what the answer was.

McCoy slowly stood up. He reached out and grabbed Spock's left hand, slipping the ruby ring onto the first officer's finger. Spock didn't resist and a smile threatened to tug at his lips.

Suddenly, that gaudy ring was now the most beautiful thing in the universe. A symbol.

McCoy grinned and closed his hand around Spock's.

One of the pesky multitude of nosy onlookers took it upon themselves to bellow out: "I THINK THIS MEANS 'YES'!"

The entire lobby erupted into cheers.

Spock glanced up and his eyes widened as he surveyed the well wishers. McCoy followed suit. Everybody was clapping, grinning. Some were jumping up and down with glee. He arched an eyebrow. Goddamn it, hadn't they ever seen anybody propose in line at the courthouse before? A man patted Spock on the back, then shook his hand.

"Congratulations!" a woman nearby told them.

"Thank you," McCoy replied. "We need a license."

"You came to the right place!" the woman said.

"Perfect, where's the end of the line?"

A woman pointed it out to them. 

"Thanks." 

*

Only three hours later, they'd made it to the front of the line at 'Window A'.

Neither one of them had spoken to the other during the wait, nor looked at each other, but they held hands, tightly, as if their life depended upon it. McCoy's palm grew sweaty in that vise-clamp, he could feel the heat of Spock's Engagement ring on the Vulcan's left hand pressed against his own bare finger, but he didn't dare let go, lest either one of 'em change their minds again. Holding hands was about the only affection that Spock would allow in public (and them being unmarried to boot, they could not kiss) so McCoy was gonna take advantage of it. He'd very nearly lost Spock due to his own idiocy. Well, never again. This Vulcan wasn't gettin' away any time soon.

With his free hand, Spock reached down and pulled his communicator from his pocket and flipped it open. "Spock to Captain Kirk."

There was a small delay, then: " _Kirk here. It's 11pm Vegas time, Spock. What are you doing contacting me at this hour_?"

"Jim, are you otherwise occupied?"

McCoy smirked at that.

" _I'm not with anybody...I'm...at the poker table, already lost 400 credits_ ," Jim said, the regret obvious in his voice.

We require your assistance."

" _Oh? What for_?"

Spock sighed. "Do you see our coordinates on your communicator?"

" _Yes_."

"Would you immediately make your way towards them?"

" _Are you two in trouble? Want me to beam over_?"

"Negative. Land taxi is adequate."

" _Gonna take some time_."

"We can wait."

" _Alright, Spock. Hey, Bones, you okay_?"

Spock held out the communicator so that McCoy could speak into it. "I'm fine, Jim. Everything's alright. We're not in jail or anything."

" _Spock, these coordinates are the...courthouse, it looks like_."

"Affirmative."

" _What are you two doing there_?"

"We shall inform you later. Spock out." Spock closed the communicator, put it back in his pocket. 

"Jim's never gonna let us live this little incident down, is he," McCoy noted. 

*

McCoy took a sip from the bottle of water he'd purchased from the vending robot. "Want some?" He held it out to Spock, who shifted his PADD over with the license on it, grasped it from him with the same free hand, took a drink, then gave back the bottle. McCoy wished the water was something stronger, but this and soft drinks were all the robot had available. He stared at the blinking slot machine in the corner. Somebody came up, stuck in a credit card and began to play.

"Where's Jim?" McCoy wondered. "It's almost midnight."

"It is twenty past 11," Spock replied.

"That's almost midnight," McCoy said.

"That is not almost midnight."

"It is so. Close enough."

"Five till 11 is 'almost midnight'," Spock informed him.

"Damned pedant."

"At any rate," Spock replied. "Traffic is no doubt heavy, even at this time of night. Give him time."

"I am! Just...thought he'd be here by now." McCoy bounced his heels. "Where're we gonna do this?"

"I have no idea, Leonard. Some place willing on short notice."

"Maybe the hotel chapel will again, since we did it there before."

"At this time of night?"

"Yeah, why not? This is Vegas, it's still early for here. Nothing closes."

They kept up their sniping at each other, while still tightly clasping hands.

*

Jim finally came waltzing up, clutching a bottle of what looked to be an alcoholic beverage. "Hi guys!"

McCoy straightened up from leaning against the wall. "About fucking time you got here, Jim."

"Spock said there was no hurry. Nice cowboy boots, Bones."

McCoy yanked the bottle out of Jim's grasp. "You're sharing this." 

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Bones. Get your own."

McCoy downed the beer then handed the empty bottle back to the captain. "What, Jim?"

Jim hissed at him and said: "Are we going out someplace? I can't believe you two actually made it out of your hotel room, thought you'd be holed up there for two weeks straight. What are you doing here of all places? I know, you want to take a cab over to Downtown? Freemont Street? Wanna play some poker, Spock?"

Spock and McCoy both hesitated. 

"What the matter?" Jim asked. "Come on, out with it."

"Spock, tell him." McCoy studied his boots. 

"Jim," Spock said. "You have to marry Leonard and I...again."

"Perform the ceremony? Again? What for? Oh...let me guess. You two got into a huge fight and you went and got the marriage annulled. Am I right? Now you made up and you want to get re-married."

"Something like that, Jim," McCoy said. 

"Oh...Jesus. Fine. Fine. Why not. My Officiant's certificate's still good. Did you get a new marriage lisence?"

Spock handed the PADD over to Jim. 

"Wait a minute," Jim said, glancing at it then handing it back. "You can't get it annulled. You consummated it."

Spock coughed. McCoy snickered and looked away. 

"You haven't done it, have you, you haven't done the deed. You two were just a bunch of fakers before. Playing a practical joke on your poor captain."

McCoy met the captain's eyes. "Sorry, Jim."

"You two...." Jim shook his head. "I ought to have you both busted down to Ensign." Jim rubbed his face then popped open his communicator and called up the Trump Hotel Chapel. The hotel staff informed him that the chapel was closed for the night. Jim closed the communicator with a huff. "You know how much that wedding cost me? The Liberace impersonator at the reception? Big bucks!"

"We know, Jim. We know."

"The things I do for you. Want me to book the Trump Chapel for tomorrow morning?"

"No," McCoy said quickly. Jim glanced over, a look of surprise on his face. "Has to be tonight, Jim."

"Why didn't you just get re-married at the courthouse by the Justice of the Peace?"

"We grew tired of standing in line," Spock told the captain.

Jim's face fell. "Oh. I thought maybe you wanted me to be there. Didn't want anybody else to officiate besides your best friend."

McCoy smiled. "Oh, that too. Look, can you help us or not?" he asked, a little frantic.

"Yes. Calm down, Bones. We'll find an alternate location."

"The Stratosphere," Spock suggested. 

"The Stratosphere? The 'Chapel in the Clouds', that's not really in the clouds? That one?" Jim said. "Hold on." Jim opened his communicator again, contacted the Stratosphere Hotel Wedding Chapel. It was no go. Jim shut the comm. "Sorry guys. Where else?"

"The Bellagio Wedding Chapel," Spock said.

Jim opened his communicator. It was not to be. Closed. "Pick someplace else."

"Paris," Spock replied.

That wedding chapel was also closed.

"What about, Miller's Delight Hotel and Casino Chapel?" McCoy murmured. "That's the one where the showgirls wearing nothing but three little feathers escort you down the aisle."

Jim called the hotel chapel. "Nope. Booked solid all night. Some place else," Jim said. "Come on, think. Someplace has gotta be open and willing to take our business."

"The Rio?"

That chapel was closed for repair.

"What about that pyramid one, whatever the name is," McCoy said.

"The Luxor," Spock told him.

Kirk contacted The Luxor Wedding Chapel. No dice.

"The Cosmopolitan," Spock suggested.

That chapel was booked, too.

"The Venetian," Spock told Jim.

"Ooh," McCoy replied. "Gondolas, that sounds romantic."

The Venetian Wedding Desk was closed for the night, too.

"Dammit," McCoy said. "I was hoping for a gondola wedding, at least!"

"The Playboy Hotel Chapel," Spock said.

"Oooh, now you're talking, Spock," Jim replied. "Then we could celebrate with a couple of Playboy Bunnies on each arm. Or at least I could." But that one was booked solid, too.

Spock rattled off several more hotels on the strip and nearby and Jim contacted their wedding chapels. They were open but booked up all night long. They tried the same for any chapels on Freemont Street and then Downtown. "No luck," Jim said.

"Jim, isn't it funny that Spock knows the name of every single hotel in the area? Makes one kinda suspicious," McCoy said.

Spock held up his PADD. "I have Yelp on here."

McCoy chuckled. "Give 'em a one star review for bein' closed or booked up at at time like this."

What about the smaller chapels?" Jim suggested. "There's some nice ones on the strip. What about: 'Chapel of the Flowers'."

McCoy snapped his fingers. "Hey, yeah! That one looked nice on the outside. We went past that one. That one's just right up the street."

Jim contacted the chapel, but they were booked up, too. He closed his communicator. "Where'd Elvis get married? We should try that one."

"Elvis got married at the Aladdin."

"Where's that?"

"The Aladdin's torn down, Jim."

"Dammit."

"Chapel of the West," Spock suggested.

That one was a no go, also.

Even tacky, trashy 'Chapel of the Bells' was booked up.

"Is this a popular night, or somepin'?" McCoy drawled. "It's not 8/08/2288 is it?"

"Negative."

"You don't know what day it is, Bones?"

"Well, I was simply curious, Jim," McCoy grumped. "I mean how else do you explain the hoards of people getting married all night long...is it Valentines day? Earth Day?"

"There are no Earth holidays today," Spock said.

"It just seems bizarre, that's all."

"It's Las Vegas." Kirk shrugged. "Well, gentlemen. We tried. I'm sorry. Wish we could beam up to the ship and do it. But we're stuck down here for the time being. Guess your last resort is the J o P at the courthouse. I'll stand in line with you."

McCoy groaned at that. Spock closed his eyes in what appeared to be despair. They walked through the doors and entered the lobby once again. It was even more crowded than before, if that was possible.

"This the back of the line, for weddings?" McCoy asked the couple in front of them. They nodded.

"How long have you been waiting?" Jim asked them.

"An hour. So far."

"It looks like it's gonna be a long wait," one of the men said as he pointed to the far wall. McCoy followed his gaze. Flashing on the screen, the wait time: 'four hours'. McCoy scratched at his eyebrow.

"You've got to be kidding me," Jim said.

"Can't you use your Starfleet clout to get us to the front of the line?" McCoy asked.

"What, here?" Jim gave a face. "Nope."

"It would work in San Francisco," Spock said.

McCoy groaned at that. Kirk grimaced and said: "You really want to go to the city? Now? We're here, Spock. We can't drink on the street in San Francisco."

Spock sighed.

"Damn," Jim said, shifting his feet after several minutes. "It's hot in here. This place needs a drive thru window."

"That's ridiculous, Jim," McCoy snapped. "With all these people you'd need several drive thru windows. Get in, git out. Don't know what the hold up is, anyhow. How long does it take to get married? All you gotta say is 'I do' and that's it."

"Drive thru window," Spock whispered. His fingers flew, typing on the PADD.

"What is it, Spock?" McCoy asked.

"There is a wedding chapel 0.8 miles away. Featuring drive thru, five minute weddings. They are open 24 hours. The name is the 'Liberace/Elvis Drive Thru Chapel'."

Jim chuckled. "The Liberace/Elvis Wedding Chapel? Oh my God."

"You don't want that, Spock," McCoy said. "Trust me. That's beyond tacky. Drive thru? Like McDonald's? Come on."

"I wish to get married," Spock replied. "As soon as possible. And we do like Liberace."

McCoy smiled at him, tightening his hand on the Vulcan's. "That's right, Darlin', we sure do."

"Awww," Jim cooed. "You two are adorable. Well, if you ask me, I'd say a drive thru Elvis/Liberace wedding is better than waiting four hours to get married in this dumpy courthouse by some sour faced Justice stuck on the night shift."

"We ain't askin' you, Jim." McCoy stared into his fiance's dark eyes. "You sure about this, Sweetheart?"

"I am," Spock replied.

"We could wait until tomorrow, Baby."

"No. Now," Spock said.

Jim clapped his hands together. "Baby." He grimaced at that. "Never thought I'd ever hear Bones call Spock: 'Darlin', 'Sweetheart' or 'Baby'. Never thought I'd see Spock in such a rush to get hitched to Bones...again. I think hell's frozen over. Hey, guys, listen. Hey." He whistled at them. "We need transportation."

McCoy reluctantly broke his gaze away from Spock. "Huh?"

"Pardon?" Spock asked.

"Limo," Jim replied. "Let's hire a limousine. This calls for something a little more festive than a grimy taxi."

McCoy shrugged. "Guess we can't walk there." He met Spock's eyes again. "Can we, Honey."

Jim sighed at that. "'Honey'. I think I created a monster." He opened up his communicator again.

_____________________  
on to chapter 10


	10. Chapter 10

Kirk closed his communicator. "You're gonna love this, guys. Our transportation should be here, any--" There was a screech. "Why, here it is."

McCoy turned around, took in the bizarre sight and gasped. A 'Pepto Bismol', bubble-gum pink Cadilac stretch limousine had pulled up to the curb. Long, huge and hideous, looked like an...well, he couldn't compare it with anything. The vehicle looked to be from about circa late 1960's. The gaudy love-mobile had old fashioned rubber wheels for crying out loud with...ghastly hubcaps. A huge grill in the front, with the Cadillac emblem in gold. Red furry dice hung from the ancient rear view mirror. Tinted windows in the back. The chauffeur got out, clad in a traditional driver's suit complete with a cap and stood waiting by the rear door. "What the devil?" McCoy said.

Kirk grinned so wide, both his bottom and lower teeth were showing. He seemed like he would positively explode with excitement. "Our ride, Gentlemen."

"What is this...thing?" McCoy demanded.

"This Caddie Limo, used to belong to none other than...Elvis."

"Elvis?!" McCoy exclaimed.

"Yeah. Elvis Presley. This limo is about two hundred years old. It's a miracle I could get this. They rent it out by the hour. We've got it all night long. Your carriage awaits, Gentlemen."

"Jim, I'm not getting into that!" McCoy protested.

"Oh...come on, Bones. Don't be a spoil sport."

McCoy shook his head at the captain. The man obviously had gone nuts. Maybe he needed a psych eval. Maybe they all did. Maybe this was a sign. The Great Bird of the Galaxy telling him to rethink this whole marriage idea to Spock. He was making a huge mistake, just like he'd feared. "No way. Forget it!"

"Bones," Jim said. He now seemed to be exasperated. "Spock, talk to him."

Spock came close, with his back to Jim, his mouth to McCoy's ear. The Vulcan spoke quietly enough so that the captain could not hear. "Leonard."

"Spock, we can't do this."

"I thought you told me you loved me."

"Yes. I do love you. But, Spock, this is beneath you. Let's wait until we can beam up to the ship. We'll use the wedding chapel up there. Have a dignified ceremony. Or we'll get married on Vulcan."

"The Enterprise will not be traveling to Vulcan any time soon. And you must trust me when I say that you do not wish to marry me on Vulcan."

"Why not?" McCoy asked. Spock shook his head. "Alright, fine," McCoy said. "But we don't have to do this right now. Let's have...something...like we had before. Tomorrow we'll get married at the Trump Hotel Chapel. I'll pay for it myself. It was beautiful, remember? It had a waterfall and little Buddha statues along the aisle. You liked that, didn't you, Spock? We'll wear our dress uniforms again. Or maybe we could have a gondola wedding at the Venetian. Let's do that instead." He gulped. "I can't ride in that pink Cadillac travesty. It looks like a human internal organ. A diseased one. It's got--" He glanced over. "It's got white fur in the interior."

"The Cadillac seems rather comfortable."

McCoy sighed. "Why are you so damned eager to get married now, tonight, no matter how humiliating the ceremony?"

Spock shifted over so that he was facing McCoy. The Vulcan took his face in his hands, McCoy felt those warm fingers on his skin. "I love you," Spock said. "It matters not the manner in which we marry...only that we are married."

"You're standing so close to me, Jim thinks we're gonna kiss. Look at him watch us." McCoy licked his lips.

"I am forbidden to kiss you at this time, as you know. However, I am most anxious to start the physical part of our relationship. As are you."

McCoy blushed. He grabbed onto Spock's wrists, caressed the warm skin with his thumbs. "Jim better have some goddamned pink champagne on board."

"The odds are quite favorable."

"Alright. We'll do this." Spock released him and they walked up to the captain. "Jim, we're ready."

But Jim was scratching at his face, his brow was furrowed. He snapped his fingers. "Witness. I forgot about a witness. Who's gonna witness your nuptuals? It's required by law here to have at least one. This is a much more intimate ceremony than before."

"Can't you witness it, Jim?"

"Not if I'm officiating. I can't do both."

"Well, what about Scotty?"

"I left Scotty at the slot machines," Jim replied. "Do we really want to pull him away?"

"Well, this seems to be an emergency...ask him!"

Kirk pulled out his communicator again and contacted the chief Engineer. Seconds later there was the tell-tale sound of the transporter beam, resulting in the man materializing in front of them. How in the devil did he manage that?

"Scotty!" Jim said. "Sorry to pull you away from the slots."

Scotty shrugged. "Ach, I was losing anyway."

"How much?"

"Uh," Scotty said, suddenly afraid. "Never mind."

"Tell me, Scotty," Jim prompted. "I want to know."

"Jim, he's on leave," McCoy said. And it was a miracle that the chief engineer even agreed to take leave in the first place. Took a ship refit to get him off of there. "It's none of our business."

"Uh...about a thousand credits," Scotty finally admitted.

Jim whistled. McCoy's mouth dropped open. "One thousand credits?" Jim asked.

"Aye."

"Maybe it's a good thing we pulled you away," Jim told him. "By the way, how'd you manage to beam over here? The Enterprise has a Lunar base skeleton crew. Las Vegas doesn't have a public transporter facility."

Scotty smirked.

"Never mind," Jim said, clasping the man on the shoulder. "Right Scotty?"

"Aye."

*

Spock had been right, the Elvis Caddie proved comfortable and there was PLENTY of pink champagne aboard. On the way to the chapel they got stuck in the strip's traffic, of course, so the drive up there took much longer than expected. McCoy and Spock drank one glass of the pink stuff, apiece as they couldn't very well get hitched while drunk even though McCoy wished desperately he could have a few more. Jim had had one glass as he had to officiate. Scotty had two--since was just along for the adventure. Jim and Scotty chirped back and forth animately, talking about nothing, but laughing, each sitting in seats on either side of the engaged couple. McCoy and Spock sat in the rear bench seat, still clasping hands.

"Wait a moment," Scotty said to Spock, working on his third glass of champagne. "I thought you two were already married?"

"Long story, Scotty," Jim said.  "Tell ya later."

McCoy merely nodded and tightened his hand on Spock's. He tried to keep his breaths even and willed his heart to stop pounding so hard.

*

The limo pulled into the 'Elvis/Liberace Wedding Chapel's driveway.

McCoy leaned forward and glanced out of the window, taking in the red neon sign at the entrance. The chapel was situated next to a live porn theatre. There were several plastic pink flamingos stuck into the grounds. And was that a...prostitute hanging around on the sidewalk? As they drove up to the drive thru area, past a sign called the 'Tunnel of Love' he cringed. The place was even worse than he thought it would be. His breathing increased tenfold and his heart threatened to burst right on out of his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut. He kicked himself for the thousandth time for annulling the other wedding. That one had been so nice. So beautiful. Why did he have to screw it all up?

He felt Spock's thumb stroking his hand and Jim's voice saying to him: "It'll be alright, Bones. We'll make it special. You'll see."

*

After waiting more than an hour in the queue of vehicles in the 'Tunnel of Love': Taxis, some regular land cars or limos, they finally reached the drive thru window. The chauffeur rolled down the rear limo window so that Jim could look out.

"Where are they?" Jim wondered. "Can't be closed all of a sudden."

After what seemed like an eternity, but probably only several minutes, a bored looking figure appeared at the drive thru window, sliding it open. "Yes?" the woman asked.

Jim glanced back at Spock and McCoy then looked back at the woman. "Hello, Ma'am, we have an engaged couple here. They want to get married."

"Do you have a marriage license?" the woman asked.

Spock handed his PADD over to Jim. Jim passed it over to the woman.

She glanced at it. "Uh huh. Just a moment." The drive thru window slid shut again.

Jim scowled. "Not very efficient, are they. And you'd think she'd be...friendlier."

"It is the night shift," Scotty said with a shrug.

"Yeah, but it's supposed to be a romantic wedding chapel," Jim exchanged glances with Spock. "Never mind."

McCoy worked on slowing down his breathing.

The drive thru window slid open. "Okay," the woman said. "What kind of a wedding do you want? What package? Do you want Flowers?"

McCoy and Spock shook their heads. "No flowers," Jim told her. "Just the basic package you have, is fine."

"We have an ample selection of tuxedos to rent."

"No. We don't need that," McCoy said.

"Sure you don't want boutonnieres? We have selection of very nice--"

"No flowers."

"Alrighty, our basic package comes with a minister, Elvis singing two songs then a small reception with Liberace in our wedding reception area," the woman said.

"How much is that?" Jim asked.

"Four hundred credits," the woman replied.

"That's not too bad is it. Do you guys really need another reception?" Kirk whispered to McCoy.

"No, we don't need that," McCoy told the lady.

"The reception for two comes with the package," the woman replied.

"It comes with the package, Bones," Jim repeated. "And hey, only 400 credits, can't beat that!"

"Alright, alright," McCoy grumped. "It comes with the package."

"Does the reception package come with champagne and wedding cake?" Jim asked the woman.

"Champagne and wedding cake is extra," she told him.

"Yeah, but the reception is included you said."

"The reception facility is included. Champagne and wedding cake is extra."

"Fine," Jim said. "How much extra?"

"Two hundred credits," the woman said.

Jim hissed at that. "Okay."

"Great, cake and champagne toast for two," the woman replied.

"Wait a minute," Jim said. "Cake and champagne toast for two?"

"Yes, the two gentlemen getting married."

"There's four of us here. We want cake and champagne, too," Jim said.

"Jim," McCoy began.

"Guests are extra," the woman said.

McCoy groaned. "Jim, we don't need a goddamned wedding cake. And we don't need a reception. They're just nickle and dimeing us."

"We might as well, Bones. And if you're gonna have a reception afterwards, we all want cake."

"We can get some goddamned cake someplace else, there's gotta be a bakery open, hell I'd be happy with a goddamned donut and we HAVE champagne right here. We'll go to our suite and have a toast. Or even right here in the goddamned limo, aright?"

"No, no, it's fine, Bones. We'll have it here. Come on."

McCoy signed. "Fine, Jim."

"Remember to give the photographer a gratutity," the woman said.

"We don't want a photographer, we can take our own photos," McCoy snapped.

"If you take your own photos, it's extra," the woman replied.

They all rolled their eyes at that.

"What kind of ceremony do you want the minister to perform? Religious? Civil?" the woman asked. "They can do whatever you like." She glanced at Spock a moment. "And in any language."

"I speak Standard English," Spock told her.

"Wait a minute," Jim said to the woman. "We don't need a minister to perform the ceremony."

"Everybody has to have the minister perform their ceremony," she replied.

"Well, Ma'am." Jim seemed to be flustered as he explained: "I wanted to be the one to officiate."

"Do you have an officiant's license?"

"Yes," Jim said. He handed her his PADD.

"Just a moment." The woman slid the window shut.

Jim tilted his head back as they patiently waited.

Finally the drive thru window slid open again. The woman handed Jim's PADD back. "Okay, that will be extra if you officiate."

"Extra? But we're not using your minister."

"It's extra if you don't use our minister."

"That doesn't make any damned sense," McCoy muttered. "Paying extra for something we're not using?"

"How much extra?" Jim asked.

"Two hundred credits," the woman told them.

"Jim, forget the whole thing," McCoy said. "Gotta be another wedding chapel open that doesn't want to screw us over."

Jim sighed, waved his hand. "No, no, no. It's fine."

The woman instructed Jim to come inside the office and pay the bill. McCoy handed Jim his credit card. "No," Jim told him. "I'm taking care of it."

"You don't have to, Jim. I'll get it. This is all my fault, anyway."

"Consider it my gift to you both. Again." The chauffeur opened the door and Jim got out of the Caddie. "Spock? Would you accompany me, please? Scotty, stay with Bones." Spock nodded, got out of the limo and followed the captain to the office.

After a moment, Scotty poured himself another glass of pink champagne. "Want some, Doc?"

"Not till later, Scotty. You seem to really like that stuff."

"Well, it's pink."

Scotty sipped on his drink as they sat there in silence a few moments. McCoy shifted on his seat.

"Nervous?" Scotty asked.

McCoy rubbed his hands together. "A bit." He chuckled and looked up at the ceiling of the limo. Furry, like a damned Tribble. "Well, what do you think, Scotty? Am I making a big mistake? Tell me, honestly. You see, that first wedding was fake. It was just so Jim could practice officiating. We annulled that one. But this wedding will be the real thing. The real deal."

Scotty sipped at his champagne as he thought a moment. "No kiddin'? Well, I've always thought you and Spock belonged together. The way you both behave--Like an old married couple. Most of the ship thought you were shagging each other, anyway. You two seem quite comfortable in each other's presence. Too comfortable."

McCoy laughed at that. "We weren't fucking each other, but I guess you're right." He suddenly thought of something he might need. He reached over, picked up Jim's PADD, quickly tapped it to perform a search.

*

After about twenty minutes Jim and Spock came back, got inside the limo. "Alright," Jim said. "We're all set."

McCoy's heart lurched as Spock took both of his hands. My God, they were really doing this.

"Just have to wait for Elvis," Jim said.

The Elvis impersonator finally showed up, with a guitar. He stood outside the Caddie, leaning towards their open window. "Hi, Elvis!" Jim said.

"Thank you, thank you very much," Elvis said. "This the lovely couple?" Elvis pointed at Spock and McCoy.

McCoy nodded. Elvis began to strum something soft and romantic on his guitar.

"I guess this is our cue to begin," Jim said. He shifted seats, so that he was in the one facing Spock and McCoy. "Well, we are gathered here today to join in matrimony Spock and Leonard. Spock? Do you take Leonard to be your lawful wedded spouse, to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, forsaking all others for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," Spock said.

"Leonard, do you take Spock to be your lawful wedded spouse, to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, forsaking all others for as long as you both shall live?"

McCoy looked into Spock's eyes. "I do."

"Repeat after me, Spock: 'I Spock, take you Leonard, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold, for better or for worse, for richer or poorer, to love and cherish, from this day forward'." Spock repeated it.

"Repeat after me, Bones: 'I Leonard, take you Spock to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold, for better or for worse, for richer or poorer, to love and cherish, from this day forward'." McCoy repeated it.

"Spock," Jim said. "I believe you have a ring."

McCoy arched an eyebrow. They hadn't exchanged wedding rings the first time around.

Spock held up a stunningly beautiful platinum wedding band. "Yes."

Jim smiled. "Spock, place the ring on Leonard's finger. And say: 'With this ring I thee wed.'" Spock said the words and slid the band onto McCoy's finger.

"I have a ring for Spock," McCoy said. He took it out of his pocket. "Right here."

"Alright, Bones. You know what to say."

McCoy placed the platinum band on Spock's finger, slid it right next to Spock's engagement ring. "WIth this ring, I thee wed, Spock."

"By the authority invested in me by Clark County, Nevada, I now pronounce you two legally married!" Jim said with a smile.

Elvis immediately went into song:

_Wise men say only fools rush in_

_but I can't help falling in love with you._

_Shall I stay? Would it be a sin,_

_If I can't help falling in love with you_

_Like a river flows surely to the sea_

_Darlin' so it goes_

_some things are meant to be_

_Take my hand, take my whole life too_

_for I can't help falling in love with you_

Spock and McCoy leaned towards each other and met lips. They also hadn't kissed during that other ceremony. Now that he had the chance to do so, McCoy didn't want to ever stop. Their kiss grew more and more passionate. Mmmmm. He felt himself grow hard. God, Spock was a good kisser, the Vulcan had learned fast since that first time they'd done it in the suite, made a man want to swoon. He felt Spock pull him even closer by the back of his neck, felt Spock's tongue slide against his own and he wanted to lay back on this here seat and pull the Vulcan on top of him, wanted to feel Spock move against him. "Mmmmm," he groaned audibly against Spock's mouth. Couldn't wait to get his husband naked. Wished he could pull his clothes off right--

He suddenly remembered that there was a captive audience watching. He reluctantly broke the kiss. Spock was flushed green.

McCoy glanced over at Jim, then the chief engineer. Both of 'em were blushing.

"Wow," Jim said. "That's some kiss."

"Aye," Scotty said.

_________________  
on to chapter 11--The wedding night...


	11. Chapter 11

It was 5:30 AM by the time they finally got back to their suite.

Jim-- as McCoy should have known-- had tried to seek evil, heartless revenge on them by not immediately whisking the happy couple back to the hotel after the cheesiest reception ever in the reception area of that taudry drive-thru wedding chapel.  Their Liberace impersonator was alright, McCoy supposed, not as good as the Trump Hotel's Liberace had been, but good enough.  He couldn't wait to get out of there, kept eyefucking his new husband.   But their captain, for all intents and purposes, had then held them hostage in Elvis' pink, furry, Pepto Bismol Cadillac Limousine. Kept wanting to party and commanding the driver to keep going. "Hey guys, we have this Caddie all night, remember? It's still early! Let's celebrate!  Make the most of it. Cooooommmmme ooooonnn, guys! No need to go back to the hotel so soon. Let's go to Freemont Street! " their captor had yelled out. "Hey, lets cruise the strip again! Let's stop and watch the water fountain!" and "Hey, lets go to Downtown!"

McCoy had groaned and pleaded a: "Jim, please! For God's sake man, are you insane?! It's our honeymoon. You can't keep us prisoners here!" Scotty was no help at all, could had only give out maniacal laugh after laugh. Spock had raised an eyebrow and exchanged a helpless glance with McCoy.

Finally they had managed to ply the captain with enough left over wedding cake, poured enough pink champagne down his gullet to get the man good and drunk enough so that he had no idea what destination they were headed next and ultimately passed out on the seat. McCoy checked on him, made sure he was alright and had shifted over to the other seat closest to the window separating them from the chauffeur and instructed the man to drive them back to the Trump Hotel on the double. He handed over a small incentive. The chauffeur nodded, took the credit chip and floored it.

McCoy had dug into his medical bag (yes he carried it with him everywhere, thank you very much) and brought out a tiny metallic packet containing a pill. He handed it to Scotty. "Here. Take care of the captain. Make sure he swallows this when he wakes up. That's a medical order."

"Hangover cure?" Scotty said.

"Yes. I should let him suffer for his sins, but this time, I'll show some mercy."

"Is there, uh, another one in there for me, Doc?"

McCoy grinned and fished out another packet for the chief engineer.

When Spock and McCoy had finally freed themselves from the Caddie, they dove through the Trump Hotel's main doors, strode through the casino and made their way to the banks of elevators at the rear of the hotel lobby.  McCoy popped the button on the turbo-elevator.  It didn't arrive right away.  He hit the button a few more times.

"Patience, Dr. McCoy," Spock chided him.

McCoy turned to his husband.  "Oh...that's something I've run out of, right about now, Sweetheart."

Spock's eyes grew wide.  

Finally the elevator doors opened.  McCoy grabbed Spock's hand.  

As soon as they were shut inside the lift, in some sort of semblance of privacy, meaning nobody else was in the lift with them, McCoy slid his arms around the Vulcan's waist, pulled him close and claimed his mouth.  

Spock moved his lips away.  "We are visible on the security monitor."

"Don't care."

"Leonard," Spock whispered.  

"Shhh." McCoy kissed him again, sliding his tongue in.  Let hotel security get a show.  Wanted to give 'em an even bigger one. He wanted to spin Spock around, yank both of their trousers down, pull down their boxer shorts and slide his cock deep into Spock's ass, up to the hilt.  Couldn't go that far in here, obviously but he was content to let Spock feel his erection pushing against the Vulcan's thigh, remind him of what was to come--pardon the pun.  

Spock moved his mouth away.  "Len."

Oh God...Spock was using...not only his Christian name, but a nickname...something nobody ever called him.  Only somebody very intimate with him, a lover, a spouse would do that.

Goddamn it, he was gonna come, right here in his pants.  "Mmm, I want to fuck you so hard," he breathed, barely audible.

"Len."

He met Spock's eyes. "Huh?"

"We have arrived on our floor."  Spock pointed to the open doors.  The elevator was going: 'Ding.  Ding. Ding.' rather impatiently, it seemed.  Sounded like it was saying: 'Get the hell out of me, you goddamned horny couple.  No fucking in the lift.'

"Oh." McCoy chuckled.  "That's us. Huh."  He reluctantly extracted himself from their embrace.  

He was temped to run out of the lift, dragging Spock along by the hand, but no, he walked to the door of their Honeymoon Suite like a grown man, not a hormonal teenager about to fuck, however his raging hard on was giving him away.

He waited patiently until the Vulcan unlocked the door.  McCoy was about to drag him inside, when Spock halted him.  The Vulcan leaned down, and picked up McCoy in his arms.  

"Oh, are we doing this again?" McCoy teased.

"Of course."

McCoy giggled and let the Vulcan have his way. Hell, he'd let his husband carry him to bed for the rest of their lives.

They landed together on the heart shaped bed.

"Ahhhh," McCoy said. "Home. At last." He glanced over at Spock's left hand. His mother's ring on Spock's pinky, the ruby ring and the wedding ring on the finger next to it. Goddamn Spock got those because he's married to-- He looked at the wedding ring on his own left hand. He then tilted his head up and was aware of Spock's mouth very close to his. His breathing hitched.  This was it, they were really gonna-- He waited. Well, which one of them was making the first move on their bed?

But Spock only slid down next to him and asked: "Home?"

McCoy quickly recovered from his disappointment. What was Spock waiting for? "Well, it's home for the rest of our honeymoon. Our real honeymoon. This time."

"Yes," Spock whispered. The Vulcan eyes were now glassy, far away, his tone seemed a little too--

"Everything alright, Honey?" McCoy asked. He reached up and caressed the jet black hair, so soft in his fingers, couldn't wait to touch the rest of Spock's naked body. He trailed a single finger across one cheek to the pointed ear. Spock didn't say anything, didn't stop him, nor should he have, but he didn't do a damned thing in response. Something seemed off. McCoy dropped his hand. "Spock? You okay, Baby?"

"Yes, I'm fine."

"Good. I'm glad." McCoy leaned forward, eager to get rid of the distance between their mouths, but Spock rolled away.

"I should, make myself presentable," the Vulcan told him.

"You're already presentable, Spock." He'd divest that suddenly shy husband of his of that pesky clothing soon enough. "Spock, hey--"

But Spock was moving around, seemingly uninterested now. The first officer glanced around them and nearly jumped out of the bed. "What is that?"

McCoy was startled too. "What is what?"

"These... objects scattered all over the bed. They appear to be organic."

McCoy looked to see what Spock was pointing at. "Oh," he said with a smile and much relief. "Rose petals." He chuckled. Aw. Their heart shaped bed was covered in red and pink petals. "Somebody called housekeeping." He glanced around the suite. Somebody'd definitely been in here, decorating. There were several lit candles sitting on both night stands, the lights were dimmed, chocolates sitting on their pillows, fresh towels, newly laundered 'his and his' bathrobes, a new bottle of pink Dom Perignon champagne along with a huge gift basket filled with fruit sitting on the dining table. More chocolate covered strawberries. Mmmm. Fantastic. But all of that could all wait till later, after they'd made love and slept for a few hours and--

"What are rose petals doing on our bed? Is this an Earth tradition as well?" Spock actually did get up out of bed this time and began collecting them in his hands. The way the Vulcan picked each one up and regarded them it was as if they were radioactive waste.

"Well yes, they're are. Look, they're supposed to be romantic. They symbolize happiness."

"I see." Spock didn't seem convinced of that and continued to pick them up.

"Yeah," McCoy told him. "The idea behind it is: 'May our marriage be a bed of roses'."

Spock narrowed his eyes. "Hmmm."

"Well," McCoy said. "I believe it originates from the Christopher Marlowe poem: 'And I will make thee a bed of roses and a thousand fragrant posies'. You see, a bed of roses symbolizes an easy or pleasant situation. It's a wish for us to have a happy marriage. That's all."

"Ah."

"I mean I know our married life isn't gonna be a bed of roses. I know it will be work. It will hard. You're the way you are and I'm...the way I am. It will be wonderful but I know there's going to be friction. Lots of it. In fact I anticipate some rather nasty arguments. But I appreciate the sentiment of whoever put those there."

"Of course."

McCoy watched the Vulcan continue to pick up petals. "You don't want them on the bed?"

"Not particularly."

McCoy shrugged. "Alright." He began to help the Vulcan collect the rest of them. Hmmm, his husband wanted to waste valuable time picking up rose petals. Alright. Fine. Actually it was a bit creepy to make love on top of rose petals, he'd have to concur. "Don't go for the mushy, romantic stuff, huh? That's alright. Me neither. Remind me never to buy you flowers for our anniversary."

"There are certainly a great deal of rose petals," Spock noted.

"S'alright, Baby, we'll get rid of 'em. I don't know who called this in. Maybe Jim. Damned Jerk--who the hell wants a pile of rose petals on their wedding night bed?"

"It is not night, Leonard, it is precisely 5:57 AM. Las Vegas time."

"Figure of speech, Spock. And the sun hasn't come up quite yet."

"Where should we dispose of these?" Spock asked as he clutched the numerous offending objects.

McCoy shrugged. "Throw them on the floor for now? We'll deal with 'em...later."

"The floor?" Spock scoffed. "How terribly untidy."

"Alright, then how about we put them in the bathtub?"

"Bathtub?" Spock appeared to be downright appalled.

"Yeah, we can take a bubble bath together later tonight with the petals in there."

"Why would we want to do that?"

"Again...it's intended to be fun, relaxing and romantic I guess. Alright, what would you like to do with the rose petals?"

"Dispose of them, in the trash."

"The trash? Wait, Darlin', how about we'll set them on the coffee table for the time being, until we decide what to do with them, how's that?"

"I would rather dispose of them now, if you don't mind," Spock said, curtly.

McCoy tilted his head back for a moment. "Alright. We'll get rid of them now. Trash it is." He tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice. "You're not allergic to roses. They're not Vulcan Kriptonite."

"Vulcan Kriptonite?  There is no such entity."

"Never mind.  It was a bad joke. What's the matter, just don't like rose petals?"

"I find that they make me uncomfortable."

"Oh," McCoy said.  "Well, what about them makes you so?  Is it the floral odor?"

"Quite possibly."

"Alright, I understand the fragrant smell of roses might be overpowering for somebody with as highly developed sense of smell as you have. We'll get rid of them, no problem."

Finally their marital heart shaped bed was completely clear of every offending rose petal. They carried them all over, making a few trips, disposing of them in the trash. McCoy hated to see them go entirely, would have been nice to take a bubble bath for two with them, but apparently that was gonna be out of the question. Rose petals had a medicinal quality, an anti-bacterial agent besides the symbolic element, but he didn't feel like explaining that to the first officer right now.

Well, that took all of about ten minutes to take care of.  "All better?" McCoy asked.

Spock nodded.  

McCoy shucked off his blue jacket, laid it down on the nearby chair. He glanced over at the Vulcan while wondering if he should just remove all of his clothing. Hopefully Spock would get the message and stop messing around with trivial things and take his jacket off too, but Spock now only stood there, looking at nothing in particular.

McCoy blew out a puff of air.  His erection was a lost cause now.  Gone away.  Well, not like it wouldn't come back.  He noticed a small wet spot on his jeans from pre-cum.  He went over to the bottle of champagne and picked it up. "Maybe we should have a glass. So we can relax."

"You wish to drink champagne at this time of morning?"

McCoy popped the cork. "It's five o' clock somewhere, as they say. Plus we're on our honeymoon, remember?" He poured some for Spock. "Here. Have a glass. I insist."

"Negative."

"I already poured you a glass. Come on."

"Why are you attempting to ply me with alcohol?"

McCoy sighed.  This wasn't turning out like he'd hoped. "Hey listen, we're both a little--uh, hey, is anything else bothering you about the suite?"

Spock shook his head.

Spock might be nervous about the sexual activity, he thought he could read that in the Vulcan's body language and therefore hesitant to get started with the consummating. McCoy knew if he had enquired as to the Vulcan's state of mind, he'd probably just get issued a flat out denial: 'Vulcan's do not experience that emotion' and he didn't feel like arguing with the one he'd just married, plenty of time for that kind of thing, fighting--he felt like getting down to business, he was goddamned eager.

But he could see where Spock was coming from. Shit was real, this time, and he was a little bit nervous, too, but all that would go away once they got started.  He sipped his drink. "Sure you don't want just a little?"

"I would appreciate if you would not pressure me to imbibe at this time."

"Alright, alright. Sorry."

He finished his drink, set down his glass and then got to work on slowly unbuttoning the top button to his shirt. Then on to the next one. Then the next.

Spock watched his movements with an odd expression, didn't appear to be somebody who was enjoying what they saw. McCoy halted. "What's the matter?"

Spock shook his head.

This part wasn't new, Spock had seen him naked before for cryin' out loud, but granted not like this. He grabbed onto Spock's arm, propelling the first officer towards the bed again, who seemed to drag over there like a cat headed to a bath.

Well. The only had to get over this first little hurdle. Just fit together that first time and things would be alright after. Spock had said before he'd wanted this, he was eager to start this part of their new relationship. So McCoy was going to push this Vulcan past his normal comfort level. That was it, wasn't it, thats' why it was so difficult. They hadn't dated, only courted if you could even call it that, hadn't been a real couple before this, only recently had been intimately sharing a hotel room--the sexual relationship would be a huge shock to both of them, but all of that would go away, once they'd rolled around naked together.

He was attracted to Spock.  Spock was attracted to him and they were in love, so they'd warm up to this soon.

He managed to escort the Vulcan over and gently maneuvered him down on the bed. Spock halted this momentum so that he was sitting not laying down almost in a quiet defiance.

Alright, McCoy left him like that, and began unbuttoning his shirt again. Spock watched. McCoy removed the shirt, threw it over onto the floor.

Spock's stared at his bare chest. "You okay?" McCoy asked.

Spock nodded and McCoy, keeping his own jeans and boots on, prodded him so that the first officer lay flat. However Spock stubbornly kept his feet planted on the floor. Well, there was enough of Spock on the bed to straddle those tiny hips, and that's exactly what he did. He wasn't hard again yet, Spock didn't appear to be either, didn't want to touch that enticing bulge Spock was packin' just yet, though he wanted to feel that cock in his hands so badly, feel it grow and harden in his fingers or even his mouth.

He leaned over far enough so that he could nuzzle Spock's ear. "I want you," he breathed.

He heard Spock swallow in response, saw him blink as he pulled off Spock's plaid scarf, threw it over onto the floor.

Spock's eyes followed the article of clothing, then he started to get up. The movement pushed McCoy off of him, dumping him over to the side.

"Hey, where you goin'?" McCoy asked.

"I shall set my scarf on the dresser."

"Oh for God's sake, sit down, Spock. It's fine right where it is. Here, let me take your coat off for you, Honey." McCoy pushed the Vulcan down and divested him of his outer wear and threw that onto the floor.

Spock stood up. "I do not wish my clothing to remain there." The first officer retrieved his coat and scarf then moved over to the dressing area.

"That didn't bother you before," McCoy whispered. "Oh, Goddammit. Fine. Fine." He then yelled out: "How about you take the rest off, please!" So much for divesting each other of their clothes. Spock remained over there for several moments and while he was doing whatever the hell he was doing in there, McCoy took the opportunity to remove his boots. He dropped those on the floor. He removed his socks, let those fall on the floor. He unbuttoned his jeans, got himself out of those, set those on the floor, leaving himself in his silk boxer shorts. One of his socks had bunched up in the boot, leaving angry red lines on the top of his foot. He rubbed them as he waited on Spock.

 Suddenly, McCoy's stomach gurgled.  He had to break wind, wondered if he could do so without Spock noticing.  Alright, he did it really quick.  Then his stomach made another noise.

Spock finally returned wearing his underpants and black undershirt but he was barefoot also. Well, his husband wasn't fully naked but this was progress. Those things would be off before long anyway.

The first officer sat down on the bed. "Is something wrong with your foot?"

"No. Well, they've been in these cowboy boots all evening long. Not as comfortable as the Enterprise footwear.  Cutting into my feet.  That's alright, it'll go away."

"Ah." Spock grabbed hold of one of McCoy's feet and began to rub them, running his hand along the tops, then to the soles. McCoy gasped. "Am I causing you discomfort?," Spock asked.

"No. Well, my feet are a little ticklish. But, keep going. Your warm hands feel nice." And he was grateful that Spock was touching him intimately again.

Spock continued to rub them a little harder and oh, it felt so damned good. "Mine are not ticklish at all," Spock said.

"Oh. How very fortunate," McCoy said with a grunt.  His stomach churned again.  Tried not to break wind again.  

"There are several pink perpendicular lines on your feet," Spock noted.  "Odd."

"My socks did that, bunched up in the boots. Never had that particular phenomenon happen to you?"

"Not like this. I might receive a interesting pattern from the socks, as I place mine quite precisely upon my feet. However any indentations are green."

McCoy smiled. "Yes, I know." He'd seen the first officer sleep lined, yawning, heavy lidded, hair sticking up already, the most adorable thing he'd ever seen, but he wasn't gonna tell Spock that.

The Vulcan released his foot.

McCoy took that opportunity to crawl up the bed. As soon as he reached his pillow, he beckoned with a hand. "Come here."

Spock did come to him, thank Christ and moved to lay down next to him.  McCoy rolled on his back, pulled Spock closer.  "Kiss me."

Spock did, and their mouths connected, and they were kissing passionately but McCoy's stomach churned again.  McCoy was the one that pulled away this time.  "Mmmm," he grunted.  

"Something the matter?" Spock asked.  

McCoy hesitated.  His stomach churned again.  He suddenly sat up, clutching his abdomen.  Grunted again.  "Dammit."

"Are you unwell?"

"You know how my medical potions turn your stomach?  Well, that goddamned wedding cake must not have agreed with me--I have a stomachache."

Spock sat up too.  "I am sorry."

"Yeah, me too.  Way to ruin the moment, huh?"  McCoy jumped out of bed.  "Spock...I'm gonna be in the bathroom for awhile.  I've got the--"  He took off for the toilet.  

 

___________________  
on to chapter 12


	12. Chapter 12

As McCoy suffered through horrific diarrhea and stomach cramps, the nausea began in earnest and it became obvious even without a scan that this was no simple 'upset tummy'. He doubled over and puked all over his underpants and the floor. Great, it was coming out both ends, now. Somehow, he didn't know how, he managed to push himself up from the toilet. It flushed as he stepped out of his soiled shorts. What a mess. Couldn't bear to have Spock see or smell this, couldn't make the Vulcan clean up after him. He wiped up the floor as best he could with some toilet paper, trying to avoid crawling around on all fours. He ran his soiled shorts under some water, rang it out, hung it up on the towel rail. Not the greatest clean up job but it would have to do until they could have housekeeping come by.

Medical bag, where in the sam hell was it? Oh right, attached to his civvies, in the other room. Great place for it. Wouldn't do to call out for Spock to come in this stinky bathroom to hand it to him, have the Vulcan witness his new husband covered in barf. He'd be mortified, that's for damned sure. McCoy stumbled over to the shower, got in under the warm spray, hurried up and cleaned his ass and his hair and the rest his body up as best he could. He got out, held onto the bar as he toweled himself off. He dropped the towel, brushed his teeth, drank a glass of water.

His legs were jelly when he finally opened the bathroom door.

McCoy damned near jumped out of his skin as he realized that Spock was standing just outside that door, probably heard everything that was going on. Of course Spock had, those damned Vulcan ears. "Can't a man have any goddamned privacy?" he snapped as he staggered, fully nude, his cock hitting against his leg, past the first officer, wet hair plastered down his face, wanting to barf again, willing himself to get over to the bed.

Spock followed him. "Are you alright, Leonard?"

"No. Sure ain't, Darlin'."

Spock held up the trusty medical kit. "Do you require this?"

McCoy nodded and took it from him. "Thanks." He made it to the bed, lay down. He dug into the kit, found and pulled out his type II then scanned himself.

"Are you ill?" Spock asked him. "You do not appear at all well."

"You mean I look worse than I normally do?" McCoy huffed out a laugh. "Well, Sweetheart, I've got a lovely case of E. Coli toxin in my intestines. Which explains the quick onset. The bacterial toxins are already present in the poorly prepared food, just waitin' for a newly married man to gobble it on up."

Spock tilted his head. "Do you know the cause?"

"Goddamned wedding cake was the cause," McCoy said, as the chills set in. "I should have known." McCoy dug in his bag for an antibiotic, found one that might do the trick, then something for the nausea and severe stomach cramps, the fever and the dehydration. He pushed the vial onto the plunger, shot himself with the hypo then lay back again. "Spock, would you fetch me a glass of water, please?"

Spock nodded, went to the bathroom and returned with it. The first officer held onto his back, helping him sit up while he sipped the liquid. "Ohh," McCoy said as he shivered.

"Here." Spock put the red comforter over him. "Are you warm enough?"

"I have a high fever. Comforter's fine."

"Are you certain that you do not need anything?" Spock looked downright concerned.

"I just need to sleep this off. The cure makes you exhausted. Hypo will do its work, but I'm gonna be down for the count for several hours." And that meant--that meant no consummating until much later. "Sorry, Spock."

"It is of no consequence."

McCoy sighed. "I'm ruining everything," he whined. "Our entire honeymoon horror is all my fault."

"Other than your acute illness at this present time, I do not find our honeymoon to be a horror. This is a mere...hiccup, perhaps."

"If I only hadn't insisted on getting the other one annulled, we would have never--"

"Leonard," Spock said, apparently to shush him.

McCoy suddenly sat up and snapped his fingers. "Hey, Spock? How do YOU feel? You ate some wedding cake. I fed it to you."

"I do have a slight stomach upset, however I surmised that I most likely have a simple intolerance to the cake's ingredients."

"You surmised?" McCoy scowled at that. "Got a medical degree in your pocket someplace, I don't know about?"

Spock sighed.

"You _surmised_ ," McCoy said again. "Damned Vulcan. Why in the hell don't you communicate with me instead of making ridiculous assumptions about your own health? Be nice if I knew what the hell was going on with you! Talk to me once in awhile. I'm your husband, dammit! Should be no secrets between us! Get over here and give me your goddamned wrist. You _surmised that it was merely an upset stomach_ ," McCoy repeated rolling his eyes. Spock held up his wrist and McCoy slammed the hypo against the Vulcan's skin before he lay back down on the bed again. "Uhhh," McCoy moaned with the effort.

Spock delicately retrieved the hypo from him, slid it back into the medical kit. "Rest, Leonard."

"You don't have any nausea? Diarrhea? No other symptoms other than upset stomach?"

"None."

McCoy sat up again. "Jim! Scotty! They ate wedding cake, too. More than I did. Not to mention all that booze. Oh shit."

"An apt description," Spock said.

In spite of everything, McCoy laughed.

Spock pulled his communicator from his pocket and flipped it open. "Spock to Captain Kirk."

There was no response.

"Spock to Captain Kirk, come in please. Spock to Captain Kirk, please respond."

McCoy scooted himself over to the edge of the bed and placed his feet on the floor.

"Spock to Captain Kirk, come in, please." Still no answer. Spock adjusted the dial. "Spock to Mr. Scott."

" _Scott here_."

"Mr. Scott. Where is the captain?"

" _He's uh... here...in the uh... on the toilet, Mr. Spock. Uh...he's uh...._ "

McCoy stood up from the bed, wobbled a bit, then sat down again to put on his jeans sans underpants, no time to dig for a fresh pair. He yelled out: "Scotty! I'll be there in a few minutes!"

" _Uh...aye. Scott out_."

McCoy tugged on his socks, tried to step into his red boots, but he failed at doing that, and sank down again on the bed. "These damned boots hurt my feet."

"Would you like to borrow my shoes?" Spock offered.

McCoy grabbed his stomach and grimaced as he looked around for his shirt. Now where in the hell did he sling it to? "What size do you wear?" he managed.

"The same size as yourself."

"How do you know?"

"Would you like them or not?" Spock replied.

"Fine!" McCoy said. Spock hurried over to the closet. "Hey Spock, grab me a tee shirt, would ya?" he called after the Vulcan.

Spock came back with a black shirt and his shoes and handed them over.

"Spock, this is your shirt, not mine."

Spock shrugged. "Does it matter?"

McCoy donned the shirt. "Are we going to start wearing each other's underwear?"

"Negative."

"Oh is that a definate no, Baby?" McCoy stuck the kit to his hip and noted Spock was now dressed and had another pair of shoes on. "How many pairs of shoes did you bring along, Spock?"

"Seven. Two pairs of uniform boots, five civilian shoes," Spock informed him.

"How in the devil did you fit all of that--" McCoy's stomach rumbled. "Oh oh." He took off for the bathroom again.

"Do you require my assistance?" Spock called after him.

"No!" McCoy shut the door.

Moments later, he came out of the bathroom. "Give me a kiss. I'll be back later."

"I will, of course, accompany you," Spock said.

"Spock you don't have to do--" but Spock already had his coat on.

*

Reaching Jim's hotel room on the third floor, McCoy and Spock opened the door to find Scotty flopped on the king sized, more traditionally shaped, bed. Spock went searching for Jim. Scotty opened an eye to look at McCoy, groaned and closed them again. McCoy knelt at the man's bedside, lay a hand on the chief engineer's head. Hot. He dug out his scanner. Running a 103 temp, bacterial toxin in intestines and bowels, nausea, diarrhea, all the familiar symptoms. He readied a hypo, shot the man with it.

"Uhhh," Scotty grunted out.

"Scotty, where's the captain?"

"Toilet."

Spock returned with the captain in tow, hand around the man's waist, Jim's arm slung around his shoulder. He helped the man, wearing only his underwear, over and lay him down on the bed, next to Scotty.

Jim gasped out: "Didn't want you coming into the bathroom, it's a mess in there."

"Don't worry about that right now, Jim." McCoy scanned the captain, shot him with the same hypo. "Jim, you'll be fine. Sleep it off."

"A little Montezuma's Revenge for our shore leave?" Jim grunted out.

"More like E. Coli, Jim."

"Food poisoning?"

"Uh huh."

"When will the stomach pains go away? Thought your potion would take care of it immedately."

"It's not that instantaneous, Jim. Be a while. I'll stay here until the symptoms subside, till the fever breaks at least."

"Bones...what are you...what are you doing here? You shouldn't be here. Taking care of us, you should be in your suite, enjoying yourself." Jim seemed to notice Spock for the first time. "Spock? You too? Bones, Spock, you don't need to be here."

"I'm a doctor, Jim," McCoy told him.

"You're on your honeymoon, Bones."

"My honeymoon comes secondary to my responsibilites to you and the crew, Jim."

Jim sighed. "I'm sorry, Bones. What caused the food poisoning?"

McCoy grinned. "Wedding cake."

"I shoulda known that would happen. Damned dumpy wedding chapel," Jim said as he awkwardly shifted on the bed. "Should have been the Justice of the Peace in the courthouse wedding instead, and did what you said, went to the bakery ourselves and bought our own cake. Had a toast in your suite. This is all my fault."

McCoy sank down in the red velvet easy chair adjacent to where Jim and Scotty lay. "Consider this punishment for putting all those rose petals all over me and Spock's bed."

"Huh?"

"Don't worry about it. You just rest." McCoy glanced over at Scotty who was already out like a light. He looked at Spock, who'd pulled up his own chair. McCoy blinked, closed his eyes for a moment to rest them.

*

He jolted awake. His stomach pains had abated but he'd slept wrong of course.  Now he had a neck ache. He looked over at Spock, still sitting upright in his chair. "How long?" he croaked out

"Six hours. It is now 11:45am Vegas time."

He got up from the chair and leaned over the captain. He felt Jim's forehead. Fever was gone. Went to Scotty, same thing.

As McCoy came back around to the captain's bedside, Jim opened his eyes. "Bones."

"I'm here, Jim. How are you feeling?"

"Tired."

"That's the cure. Makes you downright exhausted."

"Not the fact that we were up all night partying and I'm hung over?"

"Well, that too."

"Bones." Jim motioned him closer. McCoy leaned close enough so that the captain could whisper into his ear. "You consummated it yet?"

"None of your damned business, Jim."

"You haven't. You haven't done it. What's the big hold up?"

McCoy chuckled and grimaced. "You are."

"Bones."

"Yeah?"

"Get the hell out of my hotel room. Go back to your suite and get laid. That's an order."

McCoy straightened up to full height. "Well, Mr. Spock," he said to his husband. "Who are we to defy an order from our captain?"

"Agreed," Spock said.

"Good, let's go."

*

In the elevator. McCoy took hold of and then squeezed Spock's hand. He yawned and staggered a bit. He would have toppled over if the Vulcan hadn't been hanging onto him. "Spock?"

"Yes?"

"Listen, uh...I hope you don't mind but I'm not really in any condition to do a damned thing except sleep as soon as I hit the hay. Do you mind we wait till later? Never thought I'd be turning down sex. But, I'm sorry. I'm completely wrecked." And he was, absolutely. He felt terrible about it.

Spock nodded. Strange. The Vulcan seemed almost...relieved at that.

"Spock..." McCoy stared at him. "What's wrong?  Remember, there's no secrets between us. You still want to do this?" Who knows. Maybe he'd changed his mind.

Spock appeared to hesitate. There was the soft ding of the lift. Then the doors opened at their level. But...They remained where they were. Spock's stared straight ahead, looking at nothing.

"Spock? Are you alright?  Come on, talk to me."  McCoy squeezed the Vulcan's hand again.

Spock sighed. "It is Voltaire, who once said: 'It is an infantile superstition of the spirit that virginity would be thought a virtue and not the barrier that separates ignorance from knowledge'." Spock turned to him. "Is that not correct?"

McCoy caught a glimpse of unbridled fear in those dark eyes...holy hell, Spock was positively terrified to consummate their marriage. "Spock? Are you--worried that you won't know what to do in bed?"

Spock said so low that McCoy could barely catch it: "Indeed. I do not know how to give another physical pleasure. I lack practical knowledge in such matters."

McCoy glanced at their clasped hands a moment, then back up. "You're already giving me pleasure, Sweetheart."

Spock held up their hands. "You derive sensual pleasure from touching in this way?"

"Yes! I get a huge amount of emotional satisfaction, but there's...." He stroked Spock's hand with this thumb, then used two fingers to stroke the skin. "I like this. This feels good. Physically.  I know you like it too. Maybe more than I."

Spock blinked. "The fingers and hands are an erogonous zone for Vulcans. As sensitive as my penis."

That sent a spark of electricity to McCoy's own cock. Just hearing the word 'penis' coming out of the Vulcan's mouth. McCoy glanced down at the Vulcan's crotch. Sure enough, an erection tented the fabric. "Sweetheart, there's many such errognous zones on humans, not only our genitals. There's more to sex than sticking a penis in and thrusting away. I have as much to learn about your body, pleasuring you, as you do about mine, right? Previous sexual history makes no difference.  It's like we're both virgins."

"The mechanics of sex--"

"Doesn't matter. We'll go slow and we'll figure everything out together. Alright?" He kept on caressing Spock's hand with his fingers. Then Spock did it to him.

The elevator beeped. " _Please vacate the lift_ ," it said in a cheerful tone.

"Oh!" McCoy said to the computer. "Somebody's impatient." 

" _Please vacate the lift_."

"Oh, you're no fun, Computer." They vacated the lift, still touching their two fingers. "I remember your parents doing this kind of thing."

"It is a kiss, on Vulcan."

"Stationary fingers is kissing? Moving them around is--"

"Sex."

"Ohhh. No wonder the lift computer was annoyed. She didn't want to watch us engage in any kind of indecent activity." They strode down the hall to the door. Spock had to release his hand to open it. McCoy groaned with the loss of contact. They entered their suite, shut the door behind them.  "Ahhh, home again, finally."

McCoy went immediately to the bed and plonked down. He took off Spock's shoes, dropping them on the carpet. Then he removed the shirt and jeans, leaving himself naked. He left the clothing on the floor. His eyes drooped. Damn, so tired.

McCoy got into bed, flopping on his belly, then rolling over and stretching out under the comforter. He was vaguely aware of Spock coming over, scooping up the discarded clothing and shoes, carrying them away.  They'd probably have a talk when they moved in together to the Married Officer's quarters about McCoy's bad habit of throwing his clothing on the floor. He chucked at 'Married Officer's Quarters'. They'd have a lot to do when they got back. Changing their files to read: 'married'. Alerting Starfleet of their new status. Not that he minded anymore.

He lay back on the soft pillow and was about to fall asleep when he heard Spock's footsteps returning. "Spock, you coming to bed?" he murmured with closed eyes. "I know it's daytime and you don't need that much sleep, but will you snuggle next to me for a little while or you gonna--"

McCoy was cut off as felt the mattress dip.  Spock clambered into bed with him.

Spock scooted close, took McCoy in his arms. Spock had removed his shirt. McCoy groaned at the skin to skin contact, lay his head on the Vulcan's bare chest, left hand splayed out on Spock's skin. Spock's body hair tickled his palm.  He enjoyed the feeling, the first time they'd truly cuddled in bed, deliberately.  And it felt damned good.  

McCoy's hand moved down to Spock's belly. Spock's breathing hitched at the touch. Emboldened, McCoy caressed the flat stomach, felt more body hair under his palm. His hand slid down further, to Spock's hip and he realized that Spock had come to bed fully nude. Encouraged and seemingly of its own volition, his left hand slid even further down to Spock's bare thigh. Mmmmm. His hand moved back up and he parked his arm across Spock's waist. He remained like that as he dozed off a few moments or maybe it was longer than that, who knows. He roused himself to adjust his body, slide himself further up to push against Spock. He rested his head moved to the crook of Spock's neck as Spock's face dropped towards his.

With his body tightly pressed against Spock's left side McCoy could feel the Vulcan's heartbeat. Spock's even breaths. Almost lulling him to sleep. Almost. Or maybe it did for awhile.

He roused himself again but still he kept his eyes closed. Spock's skin, so warm--in a human it would be feverish, but this was just Spock at normal. Felt so good, mmmmph.

His right hand was jammed underneath him so it was only the left hand, touching. He resumed explorations, sliding his hand up, using two fingers only. Those fingers found more body hair, then located a pectoral, then finding and teasing a nipple. Spock's breath hitched at that.

McCoy's two fingers moved down again, further down the torso. Spock was holding his breath now but let it out in a rush.

McCoy kept up his exploring, fingers traveling further south till he hit a thick thatch of pubic hair. He teased wiry strands a moment, carding the hair, playing with it, tugging on it, until finally he moved further down--

McCoy heard a gulp next to him as he let two fingers rest oh so lightly on the Vulcan's penis. Oooh.  Hot almost too much so.  Could a cock burn him?  He didn't know.  Maybe a Vulcan one.  Damn.  Sexy as fuck.  He let that sensation, touching Spock's firm cock, sink in a moment. Fucking hell. It was big while erect as it lay against Spock's torso. He was hard as hell too but he ignored his own cock as he continued to touch Spock's penis. One of these days he'd have that monstrosity pumping inside of him.  Couldn't wait for Spock to fuck him, take him, maybe in that shower.  But they'd ease into that kind of thing later on, maybe a lot later. But for now....

He ran his fingers lightly across that thick shaft, hot throbbing organ, fingers memorizing every vein, capillary, until finding the glans, moving a single finger across the slit. It was slippery from precum and McCoy used it to lubricate his next featherlike movements, two fingers behind the glans, then down the shaft, then up again to the glans and--

Spock gasped. His cock pulsed. Warm semen splashed McCoy's hand.

McCoy opened his eyes to gaze at Spock. The Vulcan had his screwed shut but there was the delightful sight of raw ecstasy displayed over those normally stoic features.  "Oh, Spock," McCoy whispered and let out a moan of delight.  Damn, Spock was so beautiful right now, vulnerable. Gorgeous.

Spock opened his eyes, the dark orbs were full of wonderment. "That did not take long," Spock panted out.

McCoy smiled, leaned over to kiss the Vulcan's shoulder. "We did it, Baby." He giggled against Spock's skin. "We finally did it."

_____________________

on to chapter 13...


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Consummation does not come easy. Some mild angst.

Spock moved to scoot out of bed but McCoy held onto him. "Where ya going?"

"I should...clean myself up." 

"Not so fast. My turn." However McCoy's cock had gone soft even though what he'd just witnessed was the most erotic thing ever-- Spock in the throes of an orgasm. Looked damned hot at hell, those dark eyes wide with ecstasy-- but as he was exhausted he needed a little help. He took hold of Spock's hand, led it down to his cock, encouraged the Vulcan to touch him, which Spock did, damn his fingers were warm, but Spock explored him so hesitantly and perfunctory that it felt like a medical exam or like Spock was handling a rattlesnake, not the caress of a lover. "It's not gonna bite ya, Honey." 

"I have never touched another in this way," Spock explained.

"I know, Spock. I know. It's alright. You're doing fine." 

Spock still did not seem at all enthused to be engaging with him intimately. McCoy stopped him, pushed Spock's hand away. "Listen, it's okay. I can't get hard again now anyway."

"Does exhaustion affect your ability to become tumescent?" Spock asked. 

"Yeah, sure does. Lots of things do. You might as well go clean up, I suppose. I need a nap."

Spock nodded and got up out of bed. McCoy couldn't help but look over and smirk at the sight. That perfect Vulcan hair mussed and Spock holding his hand down at his genitals so that he didn't leak his seminal fluid all over the carpet. 

"I shall meditate while you sleep," Spock told him before walking off and disappearing into the bathroom. 

McCoy nodded in Spock's wake. Probably was a good idea. Spock obviously needed to get his head around the physical component of their marriage. Understandable.

He wiped his semen covered hand on the bed sheet. Probably have to call the housekeeping in to change them. Oh well, tomorrow. He heard the water running in the bathroom. He thought about sneaking into the shower with Spock, but his new husband needed the space and McCoy was tired--pushing himself too much. Pushing himself onto Spock. Just sleep. Give Spock time, he'll come around. He thought back to when he'd lost his own virginity. That had been awkward as hell, too, didn't know what the fuck he was doing. Neither one of them did. What a disaster. He shuddered then chuckled at that memory. 

He closed his eyes. Drifted off.

*

He opened his eyes, rubbed them as he glanced over at his PADD on the nightstand. 10:08 PM local time. Holy shit. He'd slept a long time. Well, he needed it.

He looked around the suite, didn't see Spock.

A horrible feeling hit the pit of his stomach. What if...what if Spock had changed his mind, gone off to bunk with Jim and Scotty? No, Jim would have contacted him if that had happened, wouldn't he? He hoped Jim and Scotty were doing alright. Asleep probably. But what if Spock had taken to wandering around Las Vegas? What if he had in fact gotten cold feet? That would be something, wouldn't it?

Well, first things first. He got out of bed, his 'morning wood' leading the way, due to the full bladder. He yawned as he scratched his bare ass on the way to the bathroom. He flipped up the toilet seat and lid, took the longest pee known to man. Erection abating, he flushed, came back out, searched the suite again.

There Spock was, right there. McCoy sighed with relief. The Vulcan was sitting, unmoving, in the red velvet chair which had been pulled around to face the picture window. Spock sure loved that view. At least he was safe and not off galavanting around someplace.

McCoy went back into the bathroom, turned on the shower and got in, stood under that warm relaxing spray of water, taking a length of time that would be scandalous back aboard ship. All that water down the drain.

He got out, dried himself off with a fresh, fluffy white towel. He slipped the towel back on the rail then brushed his teeth.

He left the bathroom, nude, and crept closer to the Vulcan, went around the front of him. Spock was sitting in a lotus pose, cross legged, fully dressed, eyes open but unseeing (which looked downright disturbing). Spock's long fingers were clasped together. Seeing Spock wearing a wedding ring gave him a huge thrill, he had to admit. He glanced down at his own and twirled the gold around with his thumb.

How long was Spock supposed to meditate for? He didn't know, never had seen Spock engage in this activity, only remembered the first officer mentioning on board ship that he did so regularly.

He didn't want to disturb his husband, but he was starving, so he padded over to the gift basket that was sitting on the dining room table, dug in there for some fruit. He somehow managed to knock an empty glass onto the carpet, it hit the table leg on the way down. It didn't break but it made an awful clatter. "Shit," he whispered. He leaned over to pick it up, glanced over at the window. But Spock didn't stir.

He found a bunch of grapes and devoured the entire thing as he looked around for something to drink that wasn't champagne. There was only that damned pink fancy stuff. Fine. Champagne it was. Now, how to pop the cork without disturbing Spock. Dammit, no, he couldn't do that. Too loud. No other booze in the the suite besides that. If he wanted some bourbon he'd have to order room service and pay their extortionate price for a bottle, couldn't ask Jim to pay for it. Forget it. He trudged on over to the bathroom, got himself a glass of water instead. He got himself an orange out of the gift basket. Peeled that. Gobbled it down. Found a peach. Ate that. Found some cheese and crackers, munched on that.

He decided to start up the jacuzzi, might as well relax in it as he waited. He fired up the jets, but they made a louder noise than he was comfortable with or remembered them doing before. He jumped. Oops. He glanced over at Spock. Still in that trance. Okay. He slid into the water, got the screen controls, turned on the television, looked for a movie to watch, but instead the local news seemed to be on. He stared at that for a while, till he was bored. He turned on a film, what the hell was it? What ever it was, it was halfway through, it seemed like. Some old mid 20th century movie called: "The Love Bug." The computer asked him if he wanted to start from the beginning. Yes, he might as well. 

'The Love Bug' was cute. Made him laugh a little in places. Okay, it made him outright guffaw at certain points. Each time he'd chuckled he'd snuck another glance over at Spock. Still in that trance. Fucking hell, was gonna be midnight before the Vulcan snapped out of it. Well, Spock needed the time so it was wise to leave him the hell alone and-- 

He sneezed. That came out louder than he meant to.

"Leonard?"

Shit, now he'd done it. "Yes?" He got out of the hot tub, realizing he'd forgotten his towel in the bathroom, so naturally his naked body dripped water everywhere and his feet left wet footprints on the carpet. He went to Spock, knelt down at the Vulcan's feet. "Sorry, Honey. I tried to be quiet."

"You did not disturb me."

"So it was pure coincidence that you came out of it when I sneezed?" McCoy grabbed ahold of Spock's left leg, wrapping his arms around him. "I missed you."

Spock tried to shake free. "You are all wet." 

"I was in the, uh...." McCoy motioned at the hot tub. "Waiting for you."

"You are soaking my trousers."

"So? You're wearing too much clothing anyway."

Spock shook his head before he stood up and moved McCoy bodily out of his way. McCoy fell back onto the carpet a moment before scrambling up. That seemed kinda rude. Oh well, never mind. "Spock?" he called across the suite. "You hungry, Baby? How about we go out to a restaurant?"

"I prefer to stay in."

Alright. Room service it was. "When's the last time you ate? Stomach feeling okay?"

"My stomach is fine."

"Didn't answer my other question, Spock. When's the last time you--"

"Why is the television on?" Spock glanced up at the large screen on the far wall. "What is this?"

McCoy hurried over to the controls, turned off 'The Love Bug', feeling the guilt rise up as if he'd been caught watching porn. "It's nothing." 

"What an odd film. Was that a Volkswagen Beetle?" Spock said absently.

"Just some silly movie. When's the last time you ate?"

Spock walked away from him, heading into the bathroom. "Several hours ago."

"Are you hungry?" Spock closed the bathroom door. "Are you--oh, alright." McCoy kept right on talking even though no one was listening, obviously: "Well, as for me, I'm starving. I waited for you. Thought you might like to have dinner together. You know. Dinner?" He let his hands drop to either side of him. "I'll order you something from room service anyway, just in case." McCoy went over to his PADD, typed in a request. 

Spock exited the bathroom. "Your towel was on the floor."

"Oh, sorry, it must have fell down. I'll go--"

"I already picked it up."

"Alright, thank you. Won't happen again. Is everything--?" McCoy scratched his forehead. "Food will be here in a little while. How'd you know what a Volkswagen Beetle looked like?"

"Jim had showed me an image of one before. The man is rather fond of antiques."

"Yeah. Me too."

"Indeed?" 

"Yeah. When you've come to my quarters, didn't you see my old tree books? Some of those are about 400 years old. Old medical texts. Cost me a fortune."

"Ah. I had not noticed."

There was a hum of the hotel's mini transporter beam, then the food materialized on the table. "Food," McCoy said.

"Obviously. Do you plan on eating in the nude?"

McCoy glanced down at himself. "Yeah, why not? We're not expecting company are we?"

"I would appreciate if you put something on. At least for dinner."

"Oh. Why...sure. If you insist." McCoy did as Spock asked, donning a pair of silk boxer shorts, jeans and a tee-shirt but remained defiantly barefoot. He returned. "This okay? Or should I put on my dress uniform?"

Spock rolled his eyes.

McCoy went over and picked up a new bottle of champagne, popping the cork. "Would you like a glass?"

Spock shook his head.

"No? It's your favorite. Pink. Fine. Suit yourself." McCoy poured himself a drink then sat down at the table. "Won't be able to get this aboard ship. Probably be good idea to bring a few bottles aboard."

"As if you do not already have plenty of alcohol at your disposal on board the Enterprise."

McCoy lifted up the lid on his food, raised an eyebrow. "Do you have a problem with that?"

Spock said nothing.

"Well, do you?" McCoy demanded. "We will be sharing quarters when we get back. Granted there's gonna be a few wrinkles to iron out. Maybe a lot of them."

"Indeed."

"Are you not looking forward to that prospect?" McCoy said. Spock didn't answer, yet again. Didn't the Vulcan realize how infuriating that was? "I suppose we could keep separate cabins, if you prefer."

Spock didn't answer that either.

McCoy closed his fist, opened it. "Well...if we don't...that's not much of a marriage then, now is it." McCoy stopped himself from saying something nasty, took a bite of his vegetable. "Sit down. Eat, Spock. Don't let it go to waste." He'd ordered Vegetarian for the both of them. An entre that he knew Spock would appreciate.

Spock sat down as ordered but merely picked at his food. 

"Or don't eat," McCoy huffed. "Do whatever the hell you want." 

They finished their meal in silence.

*

As soon as the mini-transporter beam cleared out the dishes, Spock immediately took off away from the table, walking back over to that damned window.

"Spock," McCoy called after him.

The Vulcan stood looking out, not answering.

McCoy came up to stand behind him. "Spock," he repeated.

"Yes, Leonard?"

McCoy slid his arms around Spock's waist, rested his chin on Spock's shoulder. "Bed."

"Yes, of course." 

McCoy leaned in for a kiss, but Spock managed to avoid it as he walked to the bed, sat down on it. 

"Well, don't do me any favors," McCoy whispered as he followed Spock. He took his shirt off, then his jeans and underwear, let them drop onto the floor. He sat down naked on the bed. He then crawled over to lay down, beckoned for Spock to join him.

Spock moved closer and McCoy wrapped his arms around him. He could feel Spock's heart beating so damned fast, hell his was too. He pulled Spock's shirt up-- Spock held up his arms to assist-- then off. He lay a hand on that warm belly, with the trail of hair leading down to his groin. Spock gulped, closed his eyes. McCoy's hand moved up to touch that chest. Spock didn't seem like he was enjoying this at all. McCoy lifted his hand away. He got up on his knees, moved to push the Vulcan's legs apart, then sat between them.

Spock still had his pants on, McCoy unfastened them, reached inside his underwear, drew out Spock's cock. The Vulcan's penis was soft but that would surely change once things got underway. He crawled up Spock's body, lay on top of him, gave him a kiss, a peck on the lips first, then tried to get more passionate. But Spock didn't respond as he'd hoped. Well, okay. He moved on, trailing a tongue along Spock's jaw over to his ear, sucked on the pointed tip, but Spock pulled away, almost violently. Alright, didn't like that, that area's too sensitive. He licked down to Spock's chest, then the belly again, then further down, past the pubic hair, and then--

Spock's hands halted him. "What are you doing?"

"Making love to you. Lie back and enjoy it," McCoy whispered. "Don't worry."

Spock lay back, stared at the ceiling and gave out a resigned sigh. McCoy shrugged, took hold of Spock's soft cock, stuck out his tongue, made contact with the very tip of the glans.

Spock gasped and sat up. "Stop."

McCoy did. "What is it?"

Spock scooted over to the edge of the bed.

"Hey, hey. What's wrong, Spock?"

"What were you about to do to me?"

"Fellatio. That's all. You're familiar with it, right? Even if you've never done it before, I thought maybe you were aware of the act--You know, it's supposed to feel good."

Spock sighed again and laid down, albeit relucantly. "If you must. Please continue. Or perhaps, I should touch you again. Would you prefer that?"

McCoy glanced down at his own very flaccid cock. "Sure." He lay back on the pillow as Spock reached over with one hand and explored his organ. "You can touch me a bit harder, grab it tighter," he suggested. "You like what you're touching?"

"You are not tumescent."

McCoy sighed, moved Spock's hand away. "I think that's enough for tonight."

"You do not wish for me to touch you?"

"No, it's fine." McCoy got out of bed and put his clothes back on. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Spock get up, put his own shirt back on, refasten his trousers. "Is the activity finished?" Spock asked. 

"The activity? Sure," McCoy said tightly.

"Then, if you do not mind, I will catch up on some work on my PADD."

"By all means," McCoy replied. Without another word, he went into the bathroom, went pee. Looked into the mirror.

*

McCoy walked out of the elevator, strode down the second floor hallway and halted at Jim's hotel room door. He knocked on it. There was no answer. "Open up! I know you're in there. No use in hiding."

Finally, Jim opened the door. "Bones. You should be in bed."

McCoy let out a low growl as he pushed past the captain. Scotty was sitting on the sofa, watching 'The Love Bug', laughing at the screen. 

"Have you seen this movie, Doc?" Scotty called over to him.

"No, no, no. I can't be bothered with a silly film like that."

Jim closed the door. "The doctor has better things to do with his time. Bones, what the fuck are you doing here?"

"Checking up on you, what else?" McCoy held up his medikit. "I want to do a quick scan of you both, just to make sure the infection is completely out of your system."

"Where's that husband of yours?"

"Catching up on some work on his PADD. Writing a paper for the technical journal."

"Right now? He's working on a paper?"

"That's right. He's got good reason. I completely respect that. He wants to get it in for next month's publication. Deadline is looming. You understand," McCoy said idly as he dug out the type II scanner.

McCoy could feel those hazel eyes burning into his back as he walked over to Scotty, scanned the man, then over to Jim, and scanned him. "Bones," Jim said, his tone a warning.

"Quiet, I'm trying to hear the scanner."

Jim glared at him but waited till he was done before asking: "Bones, what's going on?"

Satisfied with the results on the type II, he put it away. "Nothin'."

"Bullshit. If I was the one who'd just gotten married, I wouldn't leave that heart shaped bed for the entire two weeks. You couldn't drag me outta there with that jacuzzi you got. I'd be fucking repeatedly in that thing--"

"Fucking in the jacuzzi, how terribly unsanitary," McCoy said.

"Jesus Christ, you sound like Spock. What are you doing here, fussing over me?"

"Kinda my job, Jim."

"Not right now, it isn't!" Jim snapped. "Your job right now is to fuck your husband!"

McCoy huffed back: "You might be able to turn off the starship captain mode while on leave, but I can't stop being a physician. Just because--!"

"Bones! This is more than a simple shore leave, this is your honeymoon!"

"It's all your goddamned fault I'm in this position in the first fucking place! You fucking jerk!"

Scotty laughed out loud again but it was at 'The Love Bug'. Jim and McCoy turned to look at him for a moment, then back to each other. "Bones, what are you talking about? You just got married for real. You and Spock are in love."

McCoy shrugged. "Yes, we are. I think."

"You think?"

"I thought we were. I dunno. Anymore."

"Oh oh," Jim said. "Looks like it's time for a brandy." He went over and fetched the bottle, poured them all a drink. "Scotty, here's a brandy."

"Nice," Scotty replied, still watching the screen.

Jim walked over a glass to the chief engineer and then handed one to McCoy. "You're wearing Spock's shoes," the captain said.

"So?"

"Is he wearing your cowboy boots? I wanna see, if he is."

"No, dammit, he brought seven fucking pairs. He only let me wear these because mine hurt my fucking feet. So lay off me, will ya?"

Jim held up a hand. "Seven? Alright, Bones, calm down. What's going on?"

McCoy took a long sip of the brandy, sighed mightily. "Spock...uh...I dunno, Jim. It's not working. We can't--He won't talk. He shut down, closed off from me."

"Did you consummate it yet?"

McCoy shrugged. "We fooled around a little bit. I don't think he liked it."

"He's never had sex before, that takes some getting used to."

"Yeah, I know. He said as much. Jim are you sure he really likes men?"

"He told me he did. And they way he kissed you in that limo, my God. Trust me, he likes men."

"He seemed so eager to get to the sex, before. Now, he doesn't--!"

"Spock? Eager?"

"Well, eager for Spock."

"Now, the reality has hit, it's come down to actually doing the deed and he's scared," Jim replied. McCoy nodded at that. "Give him time, Bones. He'll come around. So he's a little sexually repressed."

"I know. I'm giving him time. I'm being patient, I really am."

"That _pon farr_ of his should be interesting."

"I don't want to talk about that right now--that's...years away."

"You hope."

"Well, maybe then he'll throw me against the wall and have his wicked way with me. I like it a little rough, anyway." McCoy blushed when he realized what he'd blurted out. 

Jim laughed. "It's always the quiet ones."

"I can't stand it. When he finally does come around and he wants to get down to business, Jim, the honeymoon will be over with."

"Well, you know...maybe you won't get to it in Vegas. You'll do it back aboard ship. You have to take things slowly. Get him used to physical affection. Don't push the sex."

"Yeah, I know. I trying not to push it. He's resisting everything right now. Won't even let me kiss him. Doesn't help that I'm just as fucking nervous as he is, I got goddamned performance anxiety."

"E.D.?"

"No, I don't have fucking E.D., Jim--just a little trouble, but what the fuck does it matter? What's the point in having a hard dick, when I can't use it?"

"Hmm. True. Just have to jack off in the shower."

"I haven't even been doing that. I've been holding off. I'm his first everything. First kiss, first lover, it's fucking with my head. No wonder I can't get it up."

"See? You understand. Remember when you lost your virginity way back when?"

McCoy chuckled. "Sure do. To my ex-wife."

"You lost your virginity to your ex-wife?"

"Twenty one years old. On my wedding night."

"You didn't."

"I did."

"You never told me that before, Bones."

"Not something I advertise."

"Jesus, Bones. That's-- So you know how he feels. Right? Wasn't your first time ever, horrible?"

"Yeah. I lasted like two seconds after I managed to finally get it in," McCoy replied with a sheepish grin. "Took forever to get the kinks worked out."

"You really waited to have sex, until your wedding night?"

"Yeah."

"That's crazy. That's unheard of. Who does that? Why in the fuck did you wait so damned long?"

"I dunno. I've made up for it, since then, boy did I ever. First time I ever had sex with a man, was in a seedy bar bathroom on Wrigley's."

"But you lost it at twenty-one years old? Really? Wedding night? What the fuck?"

"How old were you, Jim? Twelve?"

Jim laughed. "Twelve. Listen to you. No, I was eighteen."

"That's not so far off from twenty-one."

"Three whole years away. But, wedding night, that's unusual to say the least."

"Not for Spock," McCoy said.

"Goddamn," Jim said. "You and Spock are the perfect match for each other. You have so much in common you don't even realize. Not to mention you mirror each other's movements, behavior, you sound alike, you dress alike, and like everybody says you two argue like an old married couple. You even look alike. Spock used to constantly talk about you--"

"He did?"

"I shouldn't say this, but Spock's been in love with you for years. Since he's met you. Every time I mentioned your name while we played chess, his eyes would light up. He's a romantic at heart."

"I know he's a romantic. That's why he wanted me to propose in the first place, isn't it."

Jim poked McCoy's chest. "He courted you, because he wanted to." Jim glanced over at the chief engineer, eyes still glued to the screen. "Hey, Scotty, how were you when you lost it?"

"Lost what?"

"Your virginity!"

"Uh..." Scotty called back. "Uh...."

"Scotty's still a virgin," Jim replied in a stage whisper.

"Twenty-six!" the chief engineer called back.

"Jesus Christ, Scotty!" Jim said.

"Ach...I was too busy studying."

"Couldn't take a break from the technical journals and textbooks, for five minutes?" Jim wondered.

"Ach, no."

"Not everyone's a goddamned sex maniac, Jim," McCoy said in Scotty's defense.

"I guess not," Jim said, shaking his head. He reached out and touched McCoy on the shoulder. "Maybe the whole making love in the suite thing, honeymoon sex on the heart shaped bed stuff is freaking Spock out. Something about it is intimidating him. So, the solution is: Take the sex out of the room. Maybe that would help things along."

"We can't do it in a public place. Are you outta your goddamned mind?"

"Want me to rent you another limo?"

"No!" McCoy shook his head at the captain. 

"Too bad you didn't have a car, you could go for a drive, park someplace secluded, do it in the back seat. Want me to rent you an old mustang or something?"

"No thanks. Obviously you've never watched any horror films."

"Wait a minute, I know...." Jim snapped his fingers. "Why don't you take him up to the hotel observation lounge? They've got one in this tower, right above your floor. Looks very similar to the one we have aboard ship. And better yet, you can make it private. Lock the door so nobody can come in."

"No kidding? How much does that cost?"

"Charge it to your suite, Bones." Jim waved him off. "You don't have to fuck him up there, just make out a little bit. Get relaxed. Or just sit there and talk. Enjoy being together."

"Well, Spock does like to look at the stars."

"So there you go. You proposed in the lounge on board ship. So sit with him there, under the stars, that's perfect. Romantic. Get the ball rolling."

"Yeah," McCoy said. "Well, maybe tomorrow. I'll give him some space for awhile. Leave him be. How about the three of us go out someplace for a few hours?"

Jim nodded. "Hey Scotty! Let's go play some poker."

McCoy clapped his hands together. "Great idea! I know just the place!"

Jim grinned. "I do too. I'm gonna take a quick piss before we leave, hang on a second." Jim headed towards the bathroom.

*

Jim, Scotty and McCoy exited Jim's hotel room. They chatted animately in the lift as it went down to the lobby level. The doors opened up, and McCoy walked right into Spock. "Oh. Evening." Spock must have gone down to the gift shop for some reason. 

"Hello, Leonard." Spock then glanced over at Jim and Scotty. "Good evening, Jim. Mr. Scott."

"Spock, I uh...I'm gonna head out to play some poker with these two." McCoy cocked his head towards the other men. "I'll be back in an hour...or so."

Jim grabbed McCoy's arm. "Not so fast, Bones."

McCoy's smile faded. "What?"

Jim inclined his head towards Spock. "I think you two need to talk." He threw McCoy back into the elevator. 

"Jim!"

Spock entered the lift with him.

"Bye guys!" Jim called out.

"Jim! Wait! You can't leave me!"

Jim pointed to Spock, who obediently pushed the button. The doors shut. Closing the both of them in.

The lift began its assent. McCoy scowled. "Well, that's a fine how do ya do, isn't it?" he snapped. 

Spock stared at his hands. "Leonard."

"I was only going out for a while--just wanted to play a little cards, that's all, enjoy myself a little bit, give y'all some time alone so you could get some work done. What the hell? You have a problem with me drinking, now gambling? We're in Las Vegas, for crying out loud!"

"I do not have a problem with it."

"That's not what you--!"

"Len...shhh." Spock held up two fingers. He drew closer, caressed McCoy's cheek, then his lips. "I must apologize. I regret that I have been acting like an ass." He pulled his fingers away from McCoy's lips ever so slowly then held them up. 

"No, no, you haven't been," McCoy said then met those two fingers with his own. He reached over with his free hand and pressed the button to the very top. "I have a surprise for you. Did you know there was an observation lounge up here? You'll like this. It's private up there, Baby. We can watch the stars together."

Spock's eyes lit up as they continued touching fingers. "Indeed?"

"Indeed, my love."

_____________  
on to chapter 14


	14. Chapter 14

In the observation dome high above the hotel, the stars were billions of twinkling fireflies in the inky sky overhead. The flashy, multi-colored, pulsing neon lights of Las Vegas were visible far down below beneath their feet. Up here there were no walls or bulkhead, it was all glass dome and floor. The effect felt as if they were floating.

"I wish we would have come up here sooner," McCoy breathed at the sight.

Spock didn't reply, just sat ramrod straight on the bench in the very center of the dome. The Vulcan held onto his hand so tightly that he might break the bones. McCoy had hoped Spock would be more comfortable up here, but instead the first officer seemed grow more more tense and wound up with each passing moment.

McCoy kept sneaking glances over at him, then up at the stars, then over at Spock again, then down at the neon visible through the floor, then up again at the stars. "Hey, there's Jupiter. Your favorite planet to observe, huh Sweetheart?" Spock had often spent hours studying it during those rare times they traversed this galaxy.

Spock swallowed audibly.

"Spock, talk to me. What's on your mind? Don't tell me you're afraid of heights up here." McCoy had barely gotten that out before Spock grabbed him and pulled him by the back of the neck into a violent kiss. McCoy relaxed in his clutches and let Spock's tongue push itself in, let that mouth claim him, those teeth nip at his lip, but something was terribly wrong. Spock was frantic, hasty in his kissing, as if he was forcing himself to--

McCoy pulled away, pushing Spock back, getting out of that forceful grasp, their lips breaking apart with a loud smack. "Woah. Wait a minute. Stop it right now."

"I thought this is what you wanted?"

McCoy looked over, stunned. "You thought? That's why you're...? Hell no. Not like that."

"My apologies." Spock faced forward, looking at nothing in particular. They sunk into a heavy silence.

"Spock."

"Yes, Leonard?"

"Tell me what the devil is going on with you."

Spock studied his hands. McCoy glanced down at that gaudy ruby red engagement ring, the wedding band along side of it and his mother's ring on Spock's pinky. Spock began to absently toy with them, spinning the rings around his finger, just like McCoy did, when peturbed.

"We cannot have a marriage, if we don't talk to each other, Spock. It isn't gonna work."

Spock took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "My parents," was all he said. 

Something...fear... took hold in the pit of McCoy's stomach as he waited on baited breath for Spock to go on.

"I contacted my parents and T'Pau to inform them of our marriage," Spock continued. "While you were gone."

Oh shit. They probably weren't happy at all about it either. McCoy's heart sank. After a moment's hesitation, he dared ask: "What did Sarek and Amanda have to say?"

"They are insisting that you and I have an additional ceremony on Vulcan."

"Are they...alright with you and I...being together?"

Spock shifted to look at him in the eyes. "Of course they are. Why would they not be?"

"Well, because I'm a human and you're a--" McCoy motioned, "you're a Vulcan. And T'Pau, I remember was a little taken aback that you had human friends. And I did engage in a little subterfudge on poor T'Pau, with the tri-ox compound, so she might not be so--"

"I am half-Vulcan."

"I know that."

"My mother is human, as you know. My parents have no objection to our relationship. They think highly of you. And the elderly can tend to be xenophobic. However, whatever T'Pau thinks of my choice of union is of no consequence."

"Oh, well the elderly can get like that on any world. I'm happy to hear that your parents are supportive. So...what were you saying about a ceremony on Vulcan?"

"My parents--and of course, T'Pau-- are insisting upon it."

"I thought you didn't want a ceremony on Vulcan."

"I do not. Not particularly."

"So don't. You're a grown male. Capable of his own decisions. Not up to them. It's up to you and I."

"And my family. And yours, if you wish to invite them."

McCoy sighed. "Alright, fine. If it matters so much then let's have another ceremony on Vulcan." Spock shifted awkwardly on the seat. "It'll be alright, Spock. You can instruct me on 'how to behave' and it'll be fine."

"It will not be fine."

"Why not? It'll give us a chance to score some more wedding gifts!" McCoy joked then sobered. "Ohhh, come on. Relax."

"Leonard," Spock said, in an exasperated tone. "It is not a wedding ceremony, per se. It is nothing like the Terran wedding customs of which I have found enjoyable. It is something--" Spock shifted again. "You will not wish to engage in this."

"Is it...pon farr?"

Spock hesitated. "No. Not yet, at least."

"What is it, Spock? Talk to me. Please. Whatever it is, tell me. I'm willing to go through with it. Anything for you. I agree to it."

"You will decline, I am almost certain."

With a puff of frustrated air, McCoy got up from the bench, walked closer to the edge of the dome and folded his arms.

Spock was immediately behind him. "Forgive me."

"You certainly like putting walls up between us."

"That is not my intention."

McCoy spun around to face his husband. "Stop patronizing me!" he snapped. He stopped, softened his tone. "Look, I know this whole marriage thing is a lot to get used to, Spock. We weren't even a real couple before we got married, we just fake courted a little bit, toyed with this whole marriage thing and then boom. I know. It's a helluva shock for me, too. But whatever it is you need--we'll deal with it, together. It's you and I now. Spock, for the love of God, just tell me what it is you need me to do. Spit it out, man!"

"It is far more intimate thing than physical sexual intercourse. Far more."

"What is it? For the last time, will you please--?"

"It is a bonding ceremony. We will touch the other. Our minds will become truly one. At that point onward we will be permanently mind linked. Privy to what the other is thinking and feeling. There will be a period of training for you, of course, in order to function normally, as was required for my mother."

"Is that it?"

"Yes."

"Well, then, I accept. So stop freaking out about it all."

"It is not as simple as you might think. It will be a terrible invasion of privacy for you."

"I don't mind."

"You are agreeing much too readily."

"Is it a mind link? You've been rifling around in my thoughts, before, mind melded with me several times. That wasn't too bad, was it?"

"Indeed."

"Well, then, what's the problem?"

"Once the bonding is complete, we are together for the rest of our lives."

"Well, that sounds great to me."

"There can be no divorce."

"I don't plan on divorcing you, Spock. Do you plan on divorcing me?"

"No, I do not. However, since you have been married before--"

"Dammit!" McCoy hissed. "That's why. Isn't it. Because my former marriage ended in divorce, you think that's gonna happen again, between us? That I'm gonna walk out on you?"

"You might wish to, one day."

"I'm not gonna let you get away from me any time soon. I love you."

"You loved your former wife, did you not?"

"Yes, I did, a great deal. But I was young and immature and an idiot and I ruined my marriage. Took her for granted. Things are different in my life now. I'm not the same asshole I once was. And...just because I've had a divorce, I'm not damaged goods."

"I did not imply that--"

McCoy pointed at him. "Just in case you might of been thinking anything along those lines. Sometimes things don't work out in marriage and it's better to part ways."

"Leonard. Once I give myself to you and you to me, in the Vulcan way, there is no going back. There is no divorce, at all, even if one of us wanted to part ways someday," Spock said. "The bonding cannot be undone. The link will be permanent. If we try to sever it, we will cause ourselves serious brain damage. If one of us dies, the other will be seriously affected. Requiring medical care."

McCoy nodded. "That's a risk I'm willing to take, with you."

"You are not putting up much of a fight."

"Stop trying to talk me out of it. What about you? Do you want to bond with me? Is this your way of getting out of it? If you don't want to go that far with me, just say so. We don't have to obey your parents and T'Pau."

"Bonding is of course, part of the natural progression in a Vulcan's life. It is logical that my parents would insist upon it."

"You didn't answer my question."

"I must consider the pros and cons of a marital bond."

"Fair enough. You take some time and think about it, then. What else did your parents have to say?"

"They wish for us to have children."

"What do you want to do, Spock?"

"I have not given the idea of offspring much thought, however my parents--"

"Don't do any of this because that's what your parents want--do it because it's what you want. It's your loins, not theirs."

"Do you want to have children?" Spock asked.

"A cute little pointy eared baby, with you? I never thought about it before, either and it will take quite a bit of planning, but yeah, why not?" 

Spock seemed downright shocked about this. "You really wish to have a child with me?"

"Yeah!" McCoy nodded and smiled. "Do you want kids with me?"

"I would...not be adverse."

"Alright. Well, that life goal is settled. Kids, yes. Bonding, maybe." McCoy tilted his head up, stared up at the stars, kept his breaths even. He turned away from Spock, looked out of the dome. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Spock asked.

"I've been pushing the physical intimacy with you too much, I can tell it's upsetting you. It's just that I like being intimate with you. I never thought I'd want this with you but I do."

"Leonard," Spock said. "I will admit to you that I am...terrified. Your considerable sexual experience from a very young age intimidates me a great deal. I feel as if we have no common frame of reference. I still feel quite... embarrassed that you must instruct me on sexual technique."

"There's a first time for everything. And Goddamn it, you make it sound as if I've been having sex since I was 10 years old!"

Spock sighed at that.

"Listen you," McCoy said. "I haven't had that much sexual experience, Spock. Not at much as you think. And remember what I told you, we learn about each other together. Any previous history I might have, doesn't matter. And for your information, I was twenty one and lost my virginity on my wedding night to the ex. I have had three sex partners before you. That includes the ex-wife."

Spock made a face. "That still seems like a great deal."

"For a human? It's not. Especially at my age."

Spock nodded. "I see. As far as the bonding: I must admit I am also extremely apprehensive. While I am, of course, mentally linked to other Vulcans I have never had a true marital bond with anyone. It is not because of you, specifically. It is the bonding itself...I...."

"You and I don't have to bond any time soon, do we?"

"Tradition states that it must be done on Vulcan."

"Might be another year or so until we reach that sector, again."

Spock nodded.

"It'll give us a chance to think about it, discuss it, get to know each other as a couple. Get used to sharing a living space aboard ship. Much smaller confines. On the Enterprise there won't be any giant heart shaped bed to sleep on, unfortunately."

"Unfortunately," Spock said with a smirk.

"And uh...I think that maybe it would be a good idea for us to put consummation on hold for the time being. We need to ease into it. I mean we should express physical affection, as much as you're comfortable with, but any intercourse and maybe any other sexual activity should wait. We have time. Don't need to rush it."

"That sounds...reasonable."

They stood there in silence, both looking up at the stars for more moments, until McCoy said: "Spock?"

The Vulcan looked over. "Yes?"

"There is...something I've been meaning to say to you. Something you might appreciate." McCoy held up two fingers. As soon as Spock pressed his own to McCoy's, those questioning dark eyes on his, he recited the Vulcan wedding vows he'd memorized on board the Enterprise.

Spock's mouth dropped open for a second before he recovered himself. "Flawless."

"I'm glad I didn't butcher them. Uhura taught me how to say it. She even taught me how to play a couple songs on your harp."

"Beloved," Spock said, then recited the vows back to him.

McCoy grinned. "You're sexy when you're speaking in your native tongue."

"As are you."

"I bet you say that to all the boys."

"I do not," Spock said hotly and McCoy laughed.

"I'm only teasing, Baby." McCoy looked over at the controls on the floor closest to the exit. "Hey, computer, got any Liberace? If so, play some." Suddenly the strands of 'Nocturne No. 2 in E-flat Major, Op. 9' filled the air. "We like Liberace, don't we?"

"Indeed we do," Spock replied. He framed both sides of McCoy's face with his warm hands. McCoy closed his eyes a moment to savor Spock's touch. "My Beloved," Spock whispered. He leaned his head against McCoy's. "I wish nothing more than to bond with you some day. As long as you keep referring to me as a walking computer."

McCoy chuckled. "I thought that annoyed you."

"It did, but your insults were also oddly comforting. I would regret it if our mutual verbal sparring sessions were now lost."

"Don't worry," McCoy whispered, aware that Spock's mouth was now very close to his. "When we get back aboard ship, I'll insult you to your green heart's content, remind you that you have ice water for blood and tell you you're wrong about everything and rake you over the coals every time you botch an acetacoline test. But right now, let me tell you how wonderful you are."

"I have only made a mistake on the acetacoline test once."

"What are you talking about? You screw it up almost every single-- _ummmph_." Spock's lips were on his.

McCoy opened his mouth, let Spock in, their tongues sliding together. Hmmm, Spock was taking the lead. He liked that. A lot. After several moments he reluctantly ended the kiss. In the embrace he could feel Spock hard against his thigh, and he was sure Spock could feel him.

"It is nice in here. Romantic, isn't it." McCoy reached out and rubbed Spock's sweater. "Are you warm enough?"

"I am."

"It's a mite chilly up here for me, too bad there wasn't a blanket. So we could snuggle under it."

"Like that one?" Spock pointed. A few feet away from them, a blanket all folded up, along with two pillows. 

McCoy went immediately over to scoop them up. "They must have known we were coming." He brought it back over to Spock, laid the blanket out and the set the pillows out. He got down on the blanket. Spock crawled onto the blanket with him. McCoy moved to lay on his side, head on his pillow, Spock came up behind him, arms around him, breaths in his ear. McCoy groaned and tilted his head back so that Spock could kiss him again. He felt Spock's erection pushing very insistently against his ass.

For a long time and McCoy didn't know how long, they lay there together, not speaking with words, embracing and looking at the stars, listening to Liberace play the piano, kissing, caressing fingers.

The Vulcan suddenly shifted position, pushed McCoy onto his back, crawled on top of him, legs straddling his body. "Is this alright?" Spock asked.

"I thought we agreed to--yes, it's alright."

"Am I too heavy?"

"I can take your weight."

"I have yet to put my full weight on you." 

"Spock. You're talking too damned much." 

Spock moved so that he was actually lying on top and began to grind. "Spock," McCoy whispered. "I thought we weren't gonna--"

"Hush, Beloved."

He quieted and it felt so good with Spock pushing against him, frotting him, his cock trapped underneath his underpants and trousers and feeling Spock very hard against him and Spock's mouth swallowing his groans and finally his muttered pleas: "Don't stop, please don't stop, keep going." He grabbed onto Spock's ass, pulled him even closer. Before he knew it he tensed and cried out in Spock's ear.

Spock stopped moving. "Are you alright?" he whispered. 

"Uh huh. I just came in my pants." McCoy huffed out a laugh. How were they gonna walk outta here with that wet mess on his trousers? "Well, that didn't take long." Spock slid off to the side of him, landed on the blanket. "Mmph. You are heavy." McCoy wiped the sweat off his brow.

"My body mass is rather dense."

"Ya think? Hmmm. I wonder what your physician has to say about that."

"Leonard," Spock hissed back. "Will you still be able to be my doctor? Being as we are--"

"Shhhh, don't talk about work." McCoy glanced over and noticed Spock's erection. He reached over and put his hand on Spock's groin partly to shut him up, partly because he couldn't get enough of touching that cock, even if he had to palm it over so much fabric and be satisfied with no intercourse. He moved in for another kissing session.

After a few moments, Spock ended the kiss. "Len?"

"Uh huh?" McCoy nibbled on Spock's neck, then his ear.

"Would you...?" Spock began.

"Hmmm?" McCoy heard Spock's nervous swallow. "Yes, Sweetheart?"

"Would you do what you attempted to do to me...before? I believe you referred to the act as fellatio?"

"Spock, that's getting very close to sex, well it is... oral sex. I thought we were gonna wait."

"Len, I wish the activity to occur. Will you perform it on me?"

Spock didn't have to ask again. McCoy was already pushing Spock onto his back and sitting between his legs, unfastening the Vulcan's trousers, drawing out his cock. He took hold of that gorgeously thick, throbbing, green organ, brought his tongue to the glans. Spock shuddered at the contact, let out a strangled gasp.

McCoy put Spock into his mouth, let that cock slide down to his throat, but within seconds, Spock was bucking, tilting his head back, grabbing onto the blanket, one had caressing McCoy's hair as he cried out. McCoy pulled back a little so he wouldn't choke as Spock spurted into his mouth. 

McCoy swallowed everything Spock had to give. He wiped his mouth and glanced up at the wrecked, panting Vulcan. Goddamned Spock looked--

Spock peered down at him, his hair a mess, his cheeks flushed green, his eyes wide. "Neither one of us lasts very long before orgasm. Is this normal?"

McCoy nodded and chuckled. "Yeah. It gets better. I promise you. It'll last longer. We have to keep at it."

McCoy refastened Spock's trousers for him, then slid up to lay along side. He rested his head on the Vulcan's chest. Spock's hand came around, caressing the back of his neck, carding his hair. They lay like that for some time. looking up at the stars. He sighed. He could do this forever.

"Len?"

"Hmm?"

"I would very much like for you to...penetrate me."

McCoy coughed a little. "Now?"

"Now."

McCoy got up onto his elbow, glanced around the observation deck. "Here? We can't--I mean fooling around is one thing but--engaging in anal sex? Here? No way." He lay back down on Spock's chest. "We should wait."

"I wish to engage in sexual intercourse up here. Right now."

"Somebody could see us, up here."

"Up here?" Spock replied. "I doubt it."

McCoy rolled around so that he could look at Spock in the eyes. "No. Sex can wait."

"I wish to engage in it now."

"Spock, come on. Not here. We don't even have any lube. I mean I have my medikit, but I don't want to use the medical grade--"

Spock reached down into his pocket, pulled out a small bottle, held it up. "I bought this in the gift shop. Will this suffice?"

"That's fine but no," McCoy protested. "No. We can't do it. Not here."

"Why not?"

"Because, we can't just jump into anal sex for your first time out, it's gonna take awhile. Longer than we should be up here. It'll hurt you if we rush it."

"I wish to consummate our marriage up here."

"Well, technically we've already consummated it. Depends on what you consider consummation to be."

"Penetration."

"You want to lose your virginity under the stars? Alright, I respect that, but Spock. But, this location is a terrible idea. It isn't exactly the most comfortable, it's almost in public--Please, Sweetheart, if you want to do it now, let's go back to the suite. So we can have privacy. That comfy, heart shaped bed."

"We have the blanket."

"It's gonna be messy. Fluids everywhere. What if somebody else wants to use this blanket after us?"

"We could put secrete the blanket back to our suite."

"I thought I'd never hear something like that come out of you--but also, never thought I'd ever have your dick in my mouth."

Spock moved his arm around and at the same time managed to elbow McCoy in the nose. McCoy's head snapped back. "Ow!"

"Are you alright? My apologies."

"Well, that settles it, we're definitely not doing it now."

Spock turned his face away. "I see."

McCoy laughed. "Honey, I'm just kidding. Sweetheart, listen. It's just that, even if it was a good idea to have sex right now, up here, I wouldn't be able to get it up for awhile. My penis won't get erect any time soon. Refractory period."

"Ah. How long does that condition last?"

"Condition?" McCoy made a face at that. "For me, a long while. Look, I know what you're thinking. 'Damned human spoilsport'. But seriously, I can't--"

"It is of no consequence."

"Hey, if you're so insistent upon having sex, how about you penetrate me instead? That would be much easier and faster. And we should go back to our suite."

"I want you to penetrate me. I wish to feel you inside me. At this location."

McCoy sighed. "Goddamn it, you are stubborn. And even with your sexy talk, I can't get hard right now. So, forget it."

Spock splayed his fingers out and made contact with McCoy's temple. McCoy's eyes flitted closed and suddenly he felt the familiar tingle in his groin. 

Spock dropped his hand. "And now. You are satisfyingly erect."

McCoy opened his eyes. He was now achingly hard. Fucking hell. "Dammit! You can't do that! That's...." He sighed. "You sneaky Vulcan. Alright. You win. I'll penetrate you. Now, if you want. Don't say I didn't warn ya, though."

McCoy threw his pillow on top of Spock's. He grabbed onto the Vulcan's hips. "Get onto all fours. Then, put your head down on the pillows."

"Should I lower my trousers first?"

"Yeah, alright. What about your sweater? You should take that off, at least."

Spock did so, sat up and pulled it off, setting it aside, leaving his black undershirt on. The Vulcan knelt and pulled his trousers and underwear down, exposing his genitals. Spock lay on his belly again, elbows bent on the blanket, head pressed against the pillow. 

The sight of Spock like this made McCoy's mouth go dry. His breathing increased, his heart was pounding a mile a minute. Goddammit, he was nervous, as terrified as Spock was, maybe more so. "What did you do with the lube?" he managed.

"It is there. See?" Spock's voice had grown husky.

McCoy found the bottle. He put his hands on Spock's ass cheeks, squeezed them, caressed them, kept up whispering: "What if...maintenance or housekeeping decides to walk in on us?"

"They will not."

McCoy kept up caressing those firm globes. "What if the door's not locked?"

"It is locked. I made certain of it."

"What somebody flies close to the dome?"

"I do not care at this point."

"What if I hurt you?"

"I trust that you will not. And if anything unfortunate happens, you have your medikit."

"You put too much damned trust in me and my medikit," McCoy said as he pulled down his own pants, released his own cock.

"Please proceed."

"Alright, I'm getting to it," McCoy said with a groan. Goddamn he was so fucking hard he thought he was gonna explode. Damned Vulcan mind control or whatever the fuck that was that had gotten his dick up again. Could be used as a weapon against him. Wouldn't be able to turn down sex--not that he would ever turn it down. And now they were gonna do it. For reals this time. Goddamn these butterflies in his stomach....

He thought about covering the two of them with the blanket for some semblance of privacy, but thought better of it. Would just get too stifling. He leaned over, placed his tongue to Spock's anus. Spock gasped at the contact. Well, that settled it, Vulcans liked being rimmed or at least this one did. McCoy circled his tongue around a few times not as much as he'd wanted to spend on this, but enough to introduce it, show Spock how good it was. He then moved to lick at the perenium, then those delicious looking balls, then back up to the anus, circling around and around, sliding his tongue in again. Hearing the sounds coming out of that mouth that he'd never thought he'd ever hear and it all was going straight to his dick. Which was leaking pre-cum and if he didn't get this show on the road, he'd--

He pulled back, sat on his haunches, his anxious prick jutting out as he flipped the cap open on the bottle with a 'snap', poured some lube out onto his fingers. He got one finger nice and oily. He slid a finger in to the first knuckle. Spock let out another sharp gasp. McCoy held it there, waited and leaned down to kiss Spock's ass cheek.

He slid a finger all the way in. Spock made a noise. As soon as he felt the Vulcan was ready, he added another finger, then a third.

It seemed like he was rushing things. He was. He didn't like rushing things, but maybe it would be okay. This less than ideal location was forcing him to hurry it along. Maybe Spock could withstand pain better than he could when he'd done it for the first time and goddamn had that hurt like hell. But that guy had been a little rough and--

He withdrew his fingers. His heart was pounding so hard in his ears he was sure Spock could hear it. "You tell me if I hurt you and I'll stop, okay?"

Spock nodded from up front.

McCoy wondered if maybe Spock should lay on his back, so the Vulcan could look at the stars while he was being fucked, but that position, while nice, might make the first time hurt even worse. Hell, he didn't know.

He poured some lube into his hands again, got his cock covered in the stuff. 

He came behind Spock, one hand on Spock's hip, one hand on his own penis. He could barely see where to put it. Dammit he should have spent more time, fucking Spock with his fingers, probably wasn't stretched enough. Should go back to the foreplay-- he didn't know what the fuck he was doing. "You sure about this, Spock?" he whispered.

"Leonard, it is alright. You may proceed."

"I'm dillydallying?" McCoy gulped. He found Spock's entrance again. Placed the head of his penis against it. "Stop me if you don't want this."

Spock gave out an exasperated, impatient growl. McCoy gulped, pushed the head of his penis in, oh fuck it was tight, finally got it past the ring of muscle and stopped.

Spock let out a strangled gasp, McCoy groaned.

McCoy struggled to keep his breathing under control, sweat poured down his face and his body, he struggled not to come right there. Spock was so tight and hot it was like a vise grip on his dick. A flaming vise. He panted out: "Okay... Honey?"

"Leonard, I find the sensation quite uncomfortable."

McCoy immediately pulled out of him. "Sorry." He lay down on the blanket next to Spock and held onto him tightly. "Sorry, Baby. I didn't want to hurt you. Dammit. Let's go back to the suite. Slow it down a little bit."

Spock folded his arms, rested his head on them, his shirt pulling up, the hair under his arms visible through his sleeves. He didn't budge. "Please continue."

McCoy sighed, looked over at that cute, perky bare little ass. That stubborn Vulcan. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Roll over, onto on your side."

"Why?"

"Different position. Might be easier. Less painful."

Spock did as asked. McCoy spooned him then sat up. "Maybe we should take your pants off, entirely."

Spock nodded took his shoes off, left his socks on and pulled them all the way off. 

McCoy got back behind Spock, maneuvered the Vulcan's left leg slightly forward. He found Spock's entrance, pushed in again. He panted and waited. "Alright?" he asked with gritted teeth.

"Better," Spock said.

"Hurting you?"

"Not any longer."

Goddammit, he was glad. So fucking glad. He pushed in deeper, gave Spock time to adjust, then a little deeper, then deeper before bottoming out. He waited. "Okay?" he asked.

"The sensation is unlike anything I have every experienced," Spock whispered.

"Are you in pain?"

"No."

"Does it feel good, at least?"

"Quite."

"Good." McCoy began to move, pulling out a little then pushing back in. McCoy heard those delightful noises and groans of obvious pleasure as he was one with him.

Eventually he moved Spock onto the Vulcan's back, put those legs up on his shoulders, pushed himself back in and fucked him hard. And managed to stab at that Vulcan prostate gland. And listen to Spock keen, murmur, whimper. Holy hell.

Spock came and at the same time he filled Spock-- his beloved husband, his love, his everything-- with his seed.

*

They exited the dome, soiled blanket balled up in McCoy's arms. Covering up his still wet crotch area.

There were people waiting to get into the observation deck after them. McCoy almost whistled, the picture of innocence as he slunk past them. He turned, threw the throng a guilty glance.

They made it into the lift. McCoy leaned back against the wall, looked over at the Vulcan.

Spock seemed a little shellshocked. Well, that was understandable. The Vulcan had just lost his virginity up on the observation dome in Las Vegas to the sweet sounds of Liberace. McCoy met Spock's eyes, gave him a questioning glance. Spock smirked at him. McCoy smiled back, nodded. It hadn't been the greatest sex in the universe but it was a start. He hoped.

They arrived at their level, then stepped out of the elevator, walked down the hallway. 

"Laundry?" a female voice said from behind them.

McCoy spun around. It was one of the housekeeping staff. The maid pointed at the blanket. 

"Um. Oh, yeah." McCoy handed it over with some reluctance.

The maid shook out the blanket and tutted at the wet spots. 

McCoy dug in his pocket. Handed over his credit chip. "Uh, here," he mumbled, as he about died of embarrassment.

She took the chip from him. "Thank you, Sir."

*

In their suite, McCoy checked Spock out with the type II scanner to make sure he wasn't badly damaged. Spock was fine. But, Spock hadn't been prepared for the ensuing flood of semen and some blood all over his underwear. 

"Shower," McCoy muttered as he peeled off his own clothing. "What a mess, huh?" They dropped everything onto the floor (Spock no longer seemed to mind) and got in, turned on the water.

McCoy yawned as he stuck his head under the hot, relaxing spray closed his eyes a moment.

He felt hands around his waist, nudging him towards the tiles.

"Is shower gel alright to use as lubricant?" Spock whispered in his ear.

Oh hell, yes. "Shower gel's fine. Just go easy on me. Been a long while for me."

Spock prepared him and was inside him and he licked his lips as Spock fucked him and _ohhh goddd...._

*

They climbed into the heart shaped bed together, exhausted. Damn this bed was so comfortable. He was gonna miss it when they had to leave this place.

Spock lay on his back, under the covers, McCoy in his arms, head on the Vulcan's chest. "Spock," McCoy murmured.

"Mmm?" Goddamn Spock was delicious when worn out from sexual activity.

"You could...if you wanted...y'know...you could mind meld with me. Anytime you wanted to. So we could...y'know. Get used to the idea of being bonded."

Spock pulled McCoy closer. "Mmm," he said in affirmation. "Tomorrow."

*

He was standing in front of the window, looking out, completely nude, when Spock came up to him, also nude and held up two fingers, caressing his face. Spock said something in Vulcan, touched his temple. This meld felt different to the other ones they'd had, seemed much more intimate, deeper, now he supposed his was losing his own virginity. 

He wondered if they could have sex like this, while engaged in the meld. 

And Spock said, certainly, if you wish. 

And it made it amazing.

Holy fuck. He was ruined forever. 

*

And then the next day and the next day and the next it seemed they couldn't go ten minutes without one fucking the other or licking or sucking or melding or anything under the sun. It seemed Spock had a voracious sex drive, too and once the damn had been opened up, they couldn't get enough of it. Perfectly matched.

They were In the hot tub, Liberace playing on the sound system. The jets on the water were bubbling and swirling. Spock tilted his head back, squeezed his eyes shut, cock buried all they way up to the hilt inside McCoy. McCoy girated his hips, feeling that thick throbbing cock filling him up, sliding in and out of him. He gasped and cried out as Spock hit his sweet spot. 

Spock's hands were clamped onto his waist so tight it would most likely leave bruises. Not that he cared at all at that very moment.

"Oh, fuck me!" McCoy cried out. "Harder, dammit, harder!" 

Spock lifted McCoy up and down, bouncing him on his cock, harder and harder until they both came, McCoy felt Spock's hot shaft jerking inside of him as he squirted out his own semen into the water, against the jets, on his own belly, all over Spock. Everywhere.

They both sat there, McCoy still impaled, the both of them panting, Spock softening inside of him. "We need this...on board ship."

"What do we need?"

"This. Jacuzzi. I'm gonna ask Jim if we can install it in our quarters. And that heart shaped bed and that shower while we're at it. Think we can fit them into our suitcases?"

Spock shook his head and huffed out what sounded suspiciously like a laugh. "We do have the music of Liberace. The entire library at our disposal."

"Yes. And we like Liberace."

"Indeed."

McCoy felt Spock harden again inside of him. Fingers caressing his cheek. Time for another round. He wasn't complaining.

_____________________  
THE END.  
(Thanks to everybody who read this, left kudos and the lovely reviews!)


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